You Are The Cure
by virellya
Summary: Michonne's rare blood disorder is the key in the military's effort to cure diseases, but when a psychopath comes after her a soldier with disturbing secrets of his own is the only person who can keep her safe. Richonne AU
1. Chapter 1

Hi there!  
Thanks for checking out this new story. I have most chapters finished already. I'll try to update everyday, depending on how motivated I feel.  
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Hope you enjoy!

* * *

"All finished."

The nurse smiled at me as the needle slid from under my skin with a bold pinch. I had been here a million times, and having blood drawn no longer phased me, but the pinching sensation that came along with it was still annoying. I held the cotton swab in place as a band-aid went over it.

"Thanks Denise," I gave a small, polite smile as I made my way to the lab exit. "I'll see you in a month."

She clutched the small crimson vial and looked back at me with shining, wet eyes.

"No Michonne, thank you."

Very few people knew about my secret. My condition. Of course the nurses at the base hospital knew, but they were sworn to secrecy. And Granny, who's been there from the start, knew. And obviously the military. That's why I drove every month to come to the base hospital so that they could take blood samples. Sometimes it was more than just that. A blood transfusion here, an experimental vaccination or infection there. All because they've been looking for something. Something that I hold the key to, and yet, I'm as unable to find that key as they are. Even though we have looked for 10 years.

Pulling my coat around me tighter to shield myself against the late October air, I made my way across the parking lot to my car. With the money I get from the government, I could easily afford a nicer car than I got at the moment. But when you live in a village on Atlanta's lower west side, there's not much point to driving a big fancy car. The streets are narrow and cobblestoned, turns are sharp, streetlight are few and far between, and bike messengers fly up and down the streets as they weave their way between cars. Around here, beautiful cars don't stay beautiful for long. As I neared the driver's side door of my car I noticed a small scrap of paper held against my windshield by the wipers. Assuming it was some sort of ad I pulled it away and merely glanced at it, only to pause a second later and take a closer look. It was a typed note, something that had been printed from a computer.

'I love you' was all it said.

"How sweet." I quietly said to myself. Having no significant other to speak of I assumed the note was meant for another cars windshield and tossed it in my glovebox as I got in.

I was feeling light-headed and decided to swing by the local deli near my apartment on my way home. For some reason I never ate enough before doctor appointments and it always wound up leaving me nauseous. My apartment exists on the fourth floor of a pre-war building. The lobby is small and there is no doorman, but luckily there is an elevator and a parking garage two doors down with reserved spaces for the residents.

I parked my car in a reserved spot on the second level and took myself and my sandwich down the stairwell and out on the street. The crunch of autumn leaves under my boots was only masked by the munching I heard in my head, as I simply couldn't take it anymore and decided to eat while I walked home. After the elevator ride to the fourth floor I continued my trek down the long, carpeted hallway until I reached my door and was surprised to find a small package waiting for me. I opened my door and brought the small box inside and set it down on my large ottoman. Upon closing my front door I stopped at the framed, floor lenght mirror I kept propped up against the wall adjacent to the entrance for those last-minute once-overs before leaving.

Gently pulling off the bandage on my arm, I inspect the forming bruise in the mirror. Sometimes I felt like my skin would never be free from bruises of needles. I have black braids that cascade over my lower back and large eyes that –according to my Grandmother- "are the colour of melted chocolate". I set down my keys on the side table near the door and pushed the button next to the small blinking light on my answering machine. Yes, I'm one of the few people who still keep landline. I only have it because the government insists upon it.

"'Chonne dear," My grandmother's voice sprang from the small machine "You've gotta find time to come to the house and clear out all stuff you've left here for the past four years. There are canvases and paint and god knows what else spilling out of these damn boxes. You've got that big apartment in the city so take your crap there. Love you, and come for dinner sometime this week!"

I rolled my eyes. The woman was gutting the bedroom I grew up in. I sat down on my grey sectional and opened my laptop as the answering machine qued up my latest message.

Heavy, shuddering breathing for about ten seconds. Then a deep and raspy male voice.

"I only have eyes for you." With a click, the message ended.

Creepy and weird to say the least. I found myself drawn to the small box on my tufted ottoman that serves as a coffee table. I got a knife from the kitchen and slit away the tape-covered seams. What I found inside nearly stopped my heart. Delicately cradled in crimson tissue paper was a human eyeball. The phone rang, startling me, and I leapt back with shock and dropped the box.

"No way that's real" I said out loud to no one. "It's gotta be some sick prank." I backed away as the small, sticky orb bounced slightly off the edge of the ottoman and rolled just a few inches on the hardwood floor towards me. The phone continued ringing until my voicemail answered and a stern, smooth voice filled my apartment.

"Michonne, Hershel here. I need you to come see me right away. It's urgent."

My head swam as I stared at the detached eye, which had come to a stop and was now directly fixated on me. My heart pounded, my breathing labored, I grabbed my keys and ran.

* * *

Military base was always a swarming hive of worker bees, buzzing around from desk to desk, corner office to corner office, floor to floor from the water cooler and back. Officials ranking high and low would always be found, some clad in uniform and others in plain clothes, sitting at desks or standing together in groups or pairs staring at papers, computer screens, or phones with coffee cups in their hands and their brows knit in determination; heavily focused on their current assignment. But my arrival today revealed all of that and then some. It was less like a bee hive today and more like the floor at the New York Stock Exchange. Everybody was yelling, throwing papers, waving their arms wildly through the air, hollering at each other or into whatever phone they were holding. Suddenly I wondered if my problem was really all that important. 1st Lieutenant Maggie Greene met me at the door and quickly swept me across the room towards the largest corner office.

"Maggie, what's going on?" I questioned, watching Glenn sweat bullets as his eyes scanned his computer screen and Lieutenant Ford light up a cigarette after cigarette as if today was his last day on earth. "Everyone seems...unhinged."

Maggie turned her sharp green eyes on me and answered "We've received word that your situation with the military has been compromised and that information about you was leaked by members of the military. A lot of asses are on the line, and everyone is working on proving their innocence."

Maggie always stayed calm and collect no matter what. She was forever the eye of the storm, a moment of quiet surrounded by chaos but completely unaffected by it. I longed for her never-frazzled nerves. She was beautiful, tough, and had a glare that meant business.

She escorted me to a corner office with glass inside of which sat General Hershel Greene, Maggie's father. He was speaking in hushed tones with someone over the phone while sitting behind an impressive mahogany desk. His features brightened when we made eye contact and he motioned me in to have a seat. I turned and gave a little wave to Maggie as the General hung up the phone and slumped down in his leather chair, exhaling a breath of exhaustion and running a hand over his face.

"Michonne, we've got problems." He started, massaging his temples with his fingertips and closing his eyes as he continued. "Has anything strange happened to you today? Anything at all?"

I launched into my explanation of the note, the voicemail, and the eyeball as he straightened up in his chair and took notes while nodding intently. He elaborated on what Maggie had told me and explained that a certain enemy knew about my involvement with the military and has demanded they end all medical testing or "suffer the consequences". The reason everyone in the squadron was freaking out was because a typed letter was sent to Hershel's home listing names of every person working in the military and citing every one of them, from the janitor all the way up to Hershel himself, as the source of their information. So like Maggie stated, everyone had to prove their innocence, or risk being court-marshaled.

"As you know, this isn't the first time we've gotten threats regarding the advancements in medical science we've made," he continued. "But this is very different. We've been getting threats against your life specifically, which is of course incredibly alarming because no one's ever named you before. And now I see that not only do they know who you are, but they know what you look like, where you live, and why you're so important. We can't risk losing you, Michonne, and I don't mean that in a material sense. I mean it as a friend. I'm genuinely concerned for your life."

I had known Hershel Greene for years because he'd been running the Godsend Project from the very beginning. He and Maggie had been there for me and my grandmother when we first learned of my abnormality and offered us protection, therapy, housing, whatever we needed to keep me a secret. I would work with dietitians and nutritionists regularly to better understand my hyper-fast metabolism, get bi-monthly physicals, give blood every month, and have transfusions when needed. All with the knowledge that someday soon, it would save the lives of millions of people every year.

I was born with an incredibly rare blood defect. We never realized I had it until I was 7, and the bacterial meningitis that claimed both my parents left me unharmed. I'd been tested for the virus once my parents had been diagnosed, and the doctors were spellbound to find that not only had I not been touched by the contageon, but that my full body scan had come back immaculate and my blood tests were completely pure. Their testing had supported a theory that my blood could possess the ability to clear any virus or disease that entered my body.

A year later, panic spread worldwide after a leaked report from the World Health Organization stated that there was the possibility of a virus that could revive dead bodies and turn people into cannibalistic beasts. Fortunately, the military was able to stop the virus from spreading thanks to all the research they had done on my blood. They found a cure right away and general public would never know about how humanity had actually been on the verge of extinction.

"She's a godsend," they told my grandmother. "She meant salvation for the entire world. She's a perfect specimen of human being."

Rumours of my supposedly perfect blood did spread through the world like wildfire though, the result of overly chatty doctors, and quickly mutated from a simple theory to wild conspiracies. I couldn't go back to school, I couldn't leave my house, I couldn't go anywhere or do anything without being chased through the streets by complete strangers clawing at me as if I were Christ returned to the earth. People were so desperate to be saved from their illnesses - their good judgement so clouded by mangled versions of the truth that had been spoon-fed to them by the media- that they were swarming me in public with knives and syringed in the hopes that tasting even a drop of my blood would bring them salvation. It was a terrifying childhood. When I turned 18 I went to see Hershel, a Colonel at the time, and told him I would allow the military to use my body to find a cure for all other world's illnesses.

Through all of this Hershel made sure I grew up never feeling pressured into it, and to this day always reminds me that I can stop at any time. I moved away from home, closer to the military base. The government had made sure that national media outlets forgot about me and the public believed the rumor about the girl who had disease-curing blood was a ridiculous myth that only insane people would find realistic. It's been 9 years since then and the military is coming unfathomably close to a vaccine for HIV, and a complete cure for Leukemia.

"Michonne, I'm not willing to take any more risks when it comes to your safety, so until we find the traitor in our ranks and eliminate the people threatening to kill you, I'm assigning you a bodyguard." Hershel laces his fingers on the tabletop casually. I felt the heat of embarrassment flush my cheeks and I grimaced. A bodyguard? It was all incredibly over-dramatic in my opinion. I had been able to evade the occasional whack-job or lunatic over the years, while hiding away my condition as my very existence on earth had become like a memory from a dream for the rest of society. I kept to myself, I didn't have a job, I didn't have friends, and because of that my secret was safe. I handled all of this remarkably well at 27 years old. I was capable of taking care of myself and the last thing I needed was a babysitter.

I felt a shift in the atmosphere of not only Hershel's office, but the entire open door behind me. The loud voices in the room had suddenly dropped off to dull murmurs and hushed whispers back and forth amongst co-workers as about 50 sets of pondering eyes all seemed to follow the same moving target across the room. I heard the heavy foot falls of boots coming up behind me and then finally a soft rapping on the frame of the open door.

"Perfect timing." Hershel remarked as he stood to shake hand with the presence. "Michonne Anthony, this is the person who will be in charge of your protection from now on. I'd like you to meet Rick Grimes."

* * *

Chapter 2 should be up by tomorrow. Please let me know what you think of this story so far!

Thank you for reading! x


	2. Chapter 2

The drive back to my apartment was awkward to say the least. You could cut the tension in the air with a knife. Neither of us were happy with the arrangement, and neither of us fully understood exactly why Rick was here. I stole a quick glance at him during the drive, his body language was clearly displaying his lack of enthusiasm. Elbow on the door, supporting a strong jaw as he gazed out onto the city streets and kept tired eyes looking anywhere but towards me. There was an air about him that I found extremely unsettling. So much in fact I couldn't bring myself to truly look at him upon our meeting.

Slowing to stop at a red light gave me the opportunity to examine him a little closer while he remained focused on the city life outside the car. Even in his bored, slumped-over state I could see that he was a tall mass of lean muscle with broad shoulders. He had curly, brown hair and when he finally turned to face me, I found myself leveled by piercing blue eyes. I'd be lying if I said he wasn't handsome.

"Are you gonna drive the car or what?" His eyes bore into my own and I realized the light had turned green and we were being honked and cursed at mercilessly.

The rest of the drive home was as silent as the start of it, and I was never so glad to be opening the door to my apartment where I could find something to busy myself with and try to lift the awkwardness. Walking in had revealed a small team of Hershel's men milling around my apartment, taking pictures, writing down information, general detective work. It was then that I realized the eyeball and box were in their possession. A man named Daryl Dixon ambled over and greeted me with his usual soft grin and casual nod, then smiled wide at the sight of Rick and clapped him on the shoulder in friendly support.

"Don't worry, 'Chonne," Dixon smiled, "We're taking good care of your little occular friend." He motioned to the box he held, no doubt the contents of which caused my early morning freak-out.

The team left about 20 minutes later, leaving me alone to figure out what to do with the brooding government official. We just stood there in my living room –so fucking awkwardly. I couldn't take it anymore.

"So what's your poison?" I ask him. He raised his eyebrow at me.

"Whatever you've got that's strong."

"How strong?"

"At this point I'll drink anti-freeze."

* * *

Two hours and a few drinks hadn't been enough to help us get to know each other much, but it eased the tension, and helped us find a spit of common ground. We both were pushing thirty, we both lived in New York, we shared a mutual love for scotch and we agreed that the anchor on the 6 o'clock news wore the worst toupee on the planet.

Not exactly a heart-to-heart, but it was progress. I sat cross-legged on my living room rug with my back propped against the couch as I pretended to be interested in the evening news, and slid my gaze over the elephant in the room- his boots had been kicked off and he looked relaxed and happy, reclining on the chaise end of the grey sectional like a dog that had just finished a big steak dinner. It was good to know that it only took a few glasses of scotch to bring this guy down to earth. He wore snuggly-fitted black jeans with a cotton navy crew neck that was loose enough to be comfortable but didn't hide the evidence that he was strong.

"So.. Rick," I started in an attempt at light hearted conversation. "What exactly do you do for the military?" I can't help but feel like you're not just some body guard." His blue eyes darkened and he became slightly rigid in response to my query.

"Don't worry about it." He quipped, shrugging off my question.

"What does that mean? You're going to be living with me for God knows how long, we should at least try to get to know each other." I reasoned. Narrowed eyes slid in my direction.

"I can sit around and bullshit with you if I have to, but believe me when I say that you don't need to know anything about me. Same as how I don't care to know anything about you."

I folded my arms and scoffed. I had never been so brutally rebuffed in my life. His childish attitude wouldn't deter me, and I pressed on.

"Hershel said you were in Moscow just before arriving today, were you vacationing?"

Letting out an exasperated growl he downed the remainder of his scotch, swung his legs off the couch and glared at me. "Lady, I don't take 'vacations'."

* * *

I woke the next morning to the smell of coffee and the sound of Rick's voice in the living room. I slipped out of the bed and threw on a silk robe before exiting the master bedroom. I found him on his cell phone, pacing back and forth across my living room with a mug in his hand, complaining. His curly hair was damp from being freshly showered, and striding past him granted my nose the pleasent scent of Starbuck's Holiday Roast. It was only late October, but the cool weather months were my favorite and I wasn't wasting time. I poured myself a cup and eavsdropped.

"You're sure this is really necessary? I can't help but feel like you're still punishing me for the plane incident." The quiet of the room allowed me to hear Hershel's recognizable voice respond,

 _"I'll never stop finding ways to repay you for the stress you gave me during that 'incident', but this honestly has nothing to do with that. This is far more important. She is far more important."_

Rick stopped pacing at hearing this, and his sharp eyes connected with mine. "Hershel, what are you not telling me?"

 _"Rick, there's a lot that I'm not telling you, because I can't. But what I do need you to understand is that she needs to be protected at all costs. You know as well as I do that no one is more qualified for this than you. Grimes, consider this the most important assignment of your career. Keep Michonne Anthony alive."_

Rick slipped his iPhone into his back pocket, crossed the room and leaned in very close to me. He smelled fresh from his morning shower, and I was transfixed by blue eyes. I felt warmth creeping it's way into my cheeks. His eyes suddenly narrowed and he frowned.

"Why does Hershel give such a damn about you?"

I stumbled back a step at his rude question. "That's none of your business." I pulled open the brown paper bag that sat on the kitchen table to inspect the contents, and found muffins and organic strawberry jam. "Did you order breakfast?"

"I got groceries delivered." He replied, sliding into a chair across the table from me and taking a muffin. "You had no food."

I did have food. Sort of. Most days my fridge and cabinets consisted of chinese takeout, beer, cheetos, ramen noodles, half eaten hoagies, and usually a cake because it was someone's birthday somewhere. Any fruit I persuaded myself to buy would be forgotten and then one day resurface with blue fuzz growing on one side. I opened my fridge and looked in the shelves stocked with almond milk, fruits and veggies, bread, meats, cage-free eggs, you name it. My cabinets were full of brown rice, quinoa, chia seeds, pasta, organic tomato sauce, and any other healthy food a person could come up with.

"Michonne," He started, pausing to sip his coffee, "How do you eat the way you eat and have a body like that?"

I frowned at him. _Did he just...?_

"What do you mean?" He raised a brow at me over the rim of his mug.

"I'm not blind, woman." His gaze fell down the front of me before turning to the open newspaper next to him. I looked down and saw that my silk robe had fallen open to reveal me in tiny cotten sleep shorts and a white crop top that did little to hide the fact my c-cups had noticed the cold air in the apartment and were now standing at attention. I let out a squeek and quickly pulled my robe over my toned stomach. He grinned.

"Relax Michy, you're not the first broad I've seen half naked. Not too shabby, though."

Puffing up like an angry cat, I sat down and glared at him; contemplating how many years I'd spend in jail for physically assaulting a ranking officer of the military and if it would be worth it. I decided to take the high road and tore into my muffin instead.

"So, what was the plane incident?" I was met with a surprised look followed by more cocky grinning. "That's none of your business." Although he used my words against me, I had managed to catch him in a fairly pleasent mood, and decided to use it to my advantage.

"If you tell me what the plane incident is, I'll tell you why I'm so important to the military." His grin turned into a 1000-watt smile, and I found it hard to breathe.

"Remember several years back when that plane landed in the Hudson River?" My eyes widened.

"That was you?"

"It was an accident."

"People could have died!" I exclaimed.

"Well they didn't, because of me. Like I said, it was a fuck-up and I handled it."

"I thought the pilot landed the plane."

"And as far as the world is concerned, he did." He gave me a knowing look. "Okay, your turn."

My eyes focused on the swirling coffee in my cup. Suddenly I couldn't open up. I had been terrified of telling my secret to anyone. I knew it made sense to tell Rick, but I had become so afraid of letting anyone in. The very few times in my life that I had tried, it had blown up in my face. I decided to be more vague than he was.

"I... have a rare disorder." I started, looking up at him. "The military had found it to be... useful." He opened his mouth to say something when his phone vibrated on the table. He swiped his finger across the bottom of the screen and hit the speaker button.

"Hershel! Missing me already?"

"Rick did you charge $200 to your expense account on groceries from Whole Foods?!"

We grinned at each other.

* * *

Chapter 3 is already done! I'll probably post it sometime tomorrow.

I really hope you guys are enjoying this so far. There are some big things to come, so stay tuned!

Please don't forget to let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

Here's chapter 3 for you!

Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Time passed quicker than I had expected as we eventually fell into a rhythm. It wasn't perfect though, things were still a bit awkward because we were forced to go everywhere together. Everyday we danced around each other on eggshells, but on the road out of 'agonizingly uncomfortable' we kept hitting potholes and blowing tires, stranding us in the limbo of stuffy silences. Potholes like the time he had to come with me to my gyno appointment. And the time he burst into the master bathroom and saw me naked in the shower after I slipped and crashed to the floor. And the time we were in the building laundry room switching loads over and somehow one of my new lacey red thongs had gotten into his washing pile.

It was the strangest thing. I had spent years alone, nearly isolated from the world like Rapunzel high up in her tower. For the first time since high school I had someone to talk to who didn't know my secret. Someone who wasn't taking a blood sample or injecting me with a virus or asking when I'd finished my last period. For the first time ever, I had someone in my apartment. This was something I had always dreamed of! I had spent so many lonely days and nights out on my fire escape, looking out on the streets below wishing desperately for someone to talk to. Someone to bond with. But always knowing that I would never have the chance to know another person until I was ready to step away from the military. Now I had someone here. Everyday I had this intelligent, well-travelled, smart-mouthed character in my home, and I had no idea what to do with him. If you had asked me a month ago what I would do in a situation like this I would've seen myself relentlessly picking his brain, hanging on his every word, trying to soak up as much information he could offer about the world and what it was like to actually live in it. But we filled the silences with noise from the tv, or him on the phone with Hershel or some other government official, or with the loud music that echoed from the guest bedroom when he was working out.

"We need to go out," He stated one evening. "I'm going stir-crazy, we need a drink and some greasy food."

I looked up at him over the top of the book my nose was stuck in.

"I'm not really supposed to go anywhere that isn't military grounds..." I lied nervously. He raised an eyebrow.

"Well, what Hershel doesn't know won't kill him. Come on, The Rangers are playing Toronto in a few minutes, and there's a 70 inch flat screen at Kildaire's." I fidgeted in my club chair. It's not that the military wouldn't allow me to have a life, it's that going outside made me nervous. As much as I dreamed of being a part of the world, my mind would always flash back to being a little kid who didn't understand why everyone knew my name, and why strangers in the street would sob on their knees in front of me, begging me to heal them. All I could remember was the fear and confusion, and how after taking a stab at going to a public high school I couldn't take it anymore and I shut myself off from the world.

"Someone's been threatening my life," I reasoned. "Is this really a good idea?" He grabbed my wrist and pulled me to my feet. The contact was all-too brief.

"Nothing's happened in weeks. Just relax, you'll be with me." I pulled on my boots and jacket and we left.

"Besides," He continued as I locked the door behind me, "If shit hits the fan just remember, I'm licensed to carry concealed." This did very little to calm my nerves.

,

* * *

Kildaire's Irish Pub was only about 6 blocks from my apartment, and sat on a corner at an intersection crammed with small restaurants, bars, sketchy tattoo parlours and head shops. We entered the crowded bar and got lucky, finding two seats at the bar in perfect view of the game which had just dropped puck. We ordered a couple glasses of whiskey and hunkered down. An hour into the game and three glasses of whiskey later I was finally feeling relaxed. I had a burger in my belly and a warm tingling in all of my extremities, and I was also feeling brave. The game went to intermission and I turned to Rick.

"I never knew you were into sports." I said, stealing a french fry from his plate. "Do you play any?" He drained his glass and made eye contact with the bartender, silently asking for another.

"Yeah I played football when I was a teenager. It was a good outlet for me at the time."

"Any others?" I prodded, trying to keep conversation going.

"Well, I tried baseball for a couple weeks but it was too slow-paced and I kept getting thrown off the field for fighting." He smirked.

This earned a giggle from me, and a genuine smile from him. It was interesting to say the least, finding out that Rick previously had a violent streak. Considering that he was protecting me for the military, I wondered how violent he still was and my thoughts drifted to the large duffel bag he'd brought with him at the apartment. I had poked around in it one day while he was in the shower and it looked like Rambo's wet dream. 3 different hand-guns, leather rolls full of large knives along with throwing daggers, boxes of ammunition, a couple shotguns, and a sniper rifle. It was more then excessive. As alarming as the arsenal was, what truly concerned me was finding the first aid kit in his room. It was larger and better-stocked that any kit I had ever encountered, and contained more than just band-aids and alcohol wipes. Along with the usuals I found things like numbing sprays, gauze, liquid collodion, and needles and thread for stitching wounds. Just what did Rick think was going to happen to me? And what had happened to him that made him keep things like that on hand?

My mind snapped back to the present when I heard a lot of yelling behind us. Rick and I looked over our shoulders at two men in the bar who were drunk and extremely angry at each other. They slurred their insults and stood nose-to-nose, cursing over the noise from the resumed game that not many people were paying much attention to anymore. One of them pushed the other, and that started the wrestling. I couldn't help rolling my eyes. The tension in the room continued to rise as on-lookers and friends of the brawlers started yelling back and forth, before starting their own fights. My heart began to race. Seeing people punching and pushing each other, tearing at clothes and screaming only flashed me back to being a child and the scary things I had witnessed when going outside. It flashed me back to when I was 9, trying to shop at an open market with my Grandmother. I incited a riot when a desperate homeless person recognized me and bit me, trying to drink my blood because he thought I would cure his hepatitis. He attacked me, people attacked him, other homeless folk joined in the fighting, riot police showed up; vendor's booths were destroyed, crushed bundles of lavender and daisies littered the street and the petals floated away in the currents of maple syrup from the smashed bottles on the sidewalks. Entire tables of pies had been turned over in the hysteria, canvases belonging to local artists had been torn or stolen, and as the dust settled all that remained were the crying eyes of the vendors, shaking their heads in disbelief. And even though my Grandmother claimed it wasn't so, I knew it was all my fault. It wouldn't have happened if I had just stayed at home.

Rick was watching the scene unfold with an annoyed expression on his face. When he turned to say something however, his expression completely changed when I locked eyes with him. He could see my anxiety, the shaky hands, the worried brows, and he leaned close to me to.

"Are you okay?"

I looked to the swarming crowd and shook my head slowly. The crunching of broken chairs, the smashing of bottles over peoples heads, it was all too much. Suddenly a man with blood running down his face was shoved out of the fighting mass. He lost his footing and stumbling, fell head-on onto our table. I heard Rick curse loudly as he moved to shove the guy further away from me. There was so much noise, so much shouting, so much breaking glass. The flashing red and blue lights from outside only made it worse. My throat squeezed involuntarily and tears sprang to my eyes as terror filled me when I realized I couldn't catch my breath. I was having a panic attack. A pair of blue eyes come into focus, and I could hear my name being said over and over. I finally nodded my head and he helped me stand. I still couldn't catch my breath, and my head felt like it was splitting. The urge to cry was building rapidly in my chest, and I wanted to run out of the room badly but my knees felt too weak to move. My eyes caught a gleam of light, a reflection bouncing off black metal, and that's when my mind caught up to what was happening. Someone in the brawl had brandished a gun. My heart leapt in my chest and I latched onto Rick's arm, my mind screaming to alert him but my damn mouth just couldn't get the words out. He became alarmed when we made eye contact, and that's when the shots rang out.

* * *

I watched a police cruiser pull away from the bar, the backseat holding the raging gunman. He had shot his opponent in the foot, but we all know it could've been so much worse. I sat on the short brick wall that stood flush against the bar, a place for smokers usually, as I watched a few police officers take statements from Rick as well as a few other witnesses. I pulled my jacket closer around me. It was late, and I was cold and tired and still trying to come down from my anxiety attack. After what felt like forever he finally came over to me and helped me up so we could walk home.

"I'm sorry about that," He started quietly." This wasn't supposed to happen. How are you feeling?"

I wanted to yell at him for convincing me to leave the house. I wanted to scream at him for being the reason that I was cold and shaken, with a raging headache and dread in my stomach. But I knew it wasn't really his fault. He didn't have anything to do with the fight. My bubbling anger subsided when I felt his hand hovering at the small of my back, his fingertips making contact ever-so-slightly supporting my slow, careful steps home. This small touch, this barely-there contact, somehow gave me the small ability to whimper, asking him to please just get me home.

It felt like an eternity, but we finally made it back.

Rick used his copy of my house key to open the door and gently ushered me inside shutting the door behind us. He turned on the side-table lamp casting the apartment in soft, low-wattage incandescence and my heart lurched. A tall and dark figure was standing on the opposite end of the room, near the windows in front of the master bedroom door. Someone was in my apartment, waiting for us. Fear had me frozen in place, but Rick moved in a flash. The gun that was previously hidden in his waistband was drawn on the figure and he was shouting for the man to put his hands up. He wouldn't see any details, the room was too dark. We could only make out the silhouette of the figure, his head cocked to the side in contemplation. After a few tense seconds went by with no movement from the figure and Rick's orders being ignored, he shifted his gun's aim and fired. The figure barely moved. Rick and I stared at each other in confusion, then back at the man. His silhouette swayed slightly from the bullet's contact with his leg, but he didn't utter so much as a moan. I watched Rick and could see the gears turning in his mind. His alert eyes snapped towards me.

"Turn on the ceiling light."

I still couldn't move. My raging anxiety was back with full force and my chest was heaving. I felt useless, and it only made me want to cry. I felt him stride past me as he lowered his weapon and flipped the switch on the wall just past me. The sight I was met with was worse than anything I had expected in that moment. My world went black and I crumpled to the floor, and I could vaguely recall hearing Rick shout my name over the static in my mind.

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Hope you liked this chapter!

I read some reviews and I'm really excited that some people are really into this story!

Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

I awoke to the sound of footsteps on the hardwood accompanied by hushed murmurings and the clicks of shutters on cameras. There were people in my living room, and their voices were familiar. My mind was still trying to clear the fog, and I couldn't open my eyes yet, but I felt safe. I was cocooned in soft warmth and had something wet and cool on my forehead and even though my head was still spinning and my stomach felt weak, a clean and musky scent hit me and I felt wonderful. I could hear Rick and Hershel accompanied by Maggie conversing with people who I could only assume were from homicide. Daryl would definitely be here, and there was a good possibility Sasha Williams from Investigations would be here as well, offering her shrewd mind and observant eye. I heard Rick's strong and smooth voice coming closer, but it was muffled and I couldn't make out what he was saying. A doorknob turned, and that's when my mind realized where I was. I was in Rick's bed. His voice lowered upon entering the room.

"She's been out for more than an hour, but she'll be okay." The wet object that rested on my forehead was removed much to my dismay. The coolness was so refreshing. I heard the sink in the bathroom run for a moment and then as if reading my mind I felt a warm hand smooth my hair aside and the wet object – a wash cloth – was brought back to my skin, now colder than before. The warm hand lingered for a moment to softly stroke my hair. It was heaven. Hershel's stern voice interrupted my paradise.

"Be careful there, Grimes." The hand went away. Footsteps signaled the men's exit and the door softly clicked shut behind them. It was then that I found I could crack my eyes open and peer into the darkness. A silver of yellow light from the living room slashed across the floor and molded over the chocolate fur blanket I was under, giving me just enough light to see around me. The guest bedroom of my apartment had always been empty, except for the occasional time when my grandma would visit, have too much whiskey, and need to sleep over. I'd always kept it neat and tidy, with eggshell walls and crisp white sheets, accented by sandy neutrals in the throw pillows and the duvet cover. Rick moving in had changed its appearance quite a bit.

It was still kept tidy, but the small bookshelf holding cook books and scented candles now also was a home to miniature boxes of bullets and swiss army knives. He also changed the linens on the bed. My crisp white sheets and honey blankets were neatly folded on the top shelf of the closet and replaced with charcoal and black egyptian cotton, and from the feel I was guessing the thread count was roughly a billion. The fur blanket pooling over me was soft, lush and heavy. Guilt surged in my stomach when I began to suspect that the fur might be real. My arms slid along the cool sheets to snake under the pillow as I stretched, and that's when my hand connected with something cold and hard. Rick's gun. Most of the service men carried guns, Maggie would keep hers on the dinner table next to her glass of red wine. But what kind of work did Rick do that afforded him this kind of luxury bedding and also forced him to sleep with a gun under his pillow? The bedroom door slowly opened again, and Rick came in and shut the door behind him, bathing us in darkness. The only light source was the bright moon outside. Having just emerged from behind the clouds, it poured its soft white beams into the room and I drew my eyes to the lightblue gaze that cut though it all.

"Welcome back." He said quietly. The mattress sank a bit as he sat down next to me. I still hadn't managed to sit up, but I was awake. "How's your head?"

"Still a little foggy, but better. Why didn't you put me in my room?"

"Our friend was blocking the door." He responded darkly. Memories rushed back and my stomach lurched. The man standing in my apartment was dead. The only reason he looked tall is because he had been suspended from the ceiling, and we couldn't see his dangling feet in the dark. Someone had broken into my home and hung a person in my living room. There had been a note stapled to the man's shirt, with typed letters saying 'Give Me My Life Back".

"Hershel and his men removed the body and are taking it for evaluation. We can already tell the guy was dead before he was strung up."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"There's a big-ass hole in his chest, my guess is someone got him with a sawn-off." I shot up in bed and my hand flew to my mouth, I thought I was going to be sick. Rick threw the fur blanket off of me and moved me to sit on the edge of the bed next to him.

"Breathe." He ordered calmly. A couple of seconds passed and I felt his hand on my shoulder asking me to look at him.

"We need to talk about this." He started, "I know it's scary, but I need you to pull yourself together. I can't have you passing out when something happens. There's still more that Investigations and Homicide needs to do outside your room, dusting finger prints and stuff like that." He let out a tired sign. "We can't go walking through there so for tonight you're gonna stay in here with me."

I could feel the heat rising inside my chest.

* * *

Rick had loaned me a large white sweater to wear to bed since I couldn't go in my room yet. I took the opportunity to change while he was in the shower. His sweater smelled like him. Clean and crisp and a little earthy. A slight muskiness that sent involuntary waves through my stomach. When I turned my head I noticed Rick had left the bathroom door open a jar to vent, and I had accidentally caught a glance of his naked form through the glass doors of the shower. To call him sexy would be an understatement, and I knew falling asleep next to him that night wouldn't be easy.

His curly hair clung to his neck and his narrow hips were rooted under sculpted obliques and his ass was every woman's dream. A ball of fire raged straight down between my legs. But before I could get myself too wound up I noticed something alarming. He was covered in scars. Everything from the great to the miniscule, slashing, dotting and smattering across him in every direction. His entire back was covered in them. Wounds bad enough to leave tissue so discolored that I could notice from across the bedroom. I couldn't see the front of him, but I could only suspect with despair that it would be more of the same. Seeing him like this made my mind wander into dark territory, making up scenarios of how he was in terrible pain, suffering.

I was brought back to reality by the whine of the faucets being shut off and the sound of the stall door opening. I scrambled back into bed and tried to calm myself. My heart fluttered in my chest wildly. A few moments later the bathroom door opened and Rick came ambling out in a cloud of steam, shaking a towel over his head to dry his hair. He was fully clothed in sweats and a shirt again. My heart was tugging at the thought of all the scars that hid beneath it. Shame filled me as I realized that I now knew something extremely intimate about him, a sensitive subject no doubt since he was always covered up, and he knew nothing about me. Even though he was clueless to my discovery, I couldn't help feeling guilty.

He walked towards the door, turned off the ceiling light and then climbed into bed. He turned his face away from me, and then rolled over to shut off the table lamp on his nightstand. Bathed in darkness, I began to sink down under the sheets and stared at his broad back while suppressing the urge to reach for him. To make him turn around and wrap my arms around him. Try to make him forget all the pain he has ever felt, even if it's just for tonight.

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That's it for chapter 4. Next chapter will be up very soon!

Thank you for reading! x


	5. Chapter 5

A few days went by and we had slipped back into awkward territory. But for some reason Rick seemed different. He seemed cold. He hadn't said a word to me in days. He hardly even looked at me. Before that one evening- even though we hadn't come closer to figuring out who was threatening me- we had started to move beyond a tolerable coexistence and into something more comfortable. We were starting to get along, but now it seemed like it was all shot dead. He had completely shut me out, and I was wondering if it had something to do with me catching a glance at him in the shower. I still felt guilty for spying on him that night. It was honestly an accident, but when I walked past the slightly opened door I couldn't tear my eyes away.

The crime scene had since been re-opened after longer than expected, allowing me to once again sleep in my own room. I had spent the better part of a week showering in Rick's bathroom and sleeping in his bed. He didn't sleep next to me after the first night, he had since resigned himself to the couch in the living room and I could feel how uneasiness washed over me everytime I slid between his soft sheets and he exited the room. Something wasn't right.

I was curled up in my over-stuffed club chair reading when he came in to the living room. He was on his phone.

"Okay... I'll let her know... Keep me posted. ...Not yet, but soon. Everything feels alright so far. Okay... See ya." He slid his phone into his back pocket and sat down on the tufted ottoman across me.

"That was the General." He started. I closed my book slowly and raised my head to meet his gaze for the first time in days. The gruff mask he had been wearing was still firmly in place. "After examining the body they've found that it wasn't a body at all. It was an intricately-crafted dummy. It was mostly a solid mass of silicone inside."

I blinked in surprise.

"It was fake? Why would someone go through so much trouble to do all this? And where exactly would they get a fake body?"

"They're actually more common than you think. Everytime you watch a gory horror film you're seeing an example of one of these bodies. It's basically a life-sized prosthetic crafted by makeup effects and fabrication artists for the film and tv industry. A talented artist can make a fake body realistic-looking enough to fool human senses. Until you cut it open, that is." He then let out a sign and ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

"We don't know why it's being done, it's really fucking annoying. If I didn't know any better I would say it's some punk-ass kid messing with us, but this was designed and created by a professional. The eyeball was the same as the body, a very convincing fake."

I found a speck of relief in midst of this new information. No one had been hurt. At least not yet. As if Rick had read my mind he added,

"The new problem that the prosthetics bring to light is how we should proceed. This enemy may have done this with the hope that we wouldn't take him seriously and therefore drop our guard. We don't know how long he'll continue with the fakes before graduating to actual killing. These things aren't exactly cheap or easy to make. He could save himself a lot of time and effort if he just kills someone. I don't like that we're sitting ducks just waiting for something to happen, but we don't have nearly enough information to make any moves. The whole thing also just proves what we have been suspecting. We were being watched. He waited for us to leave that night. I had been thinking about moving you somewhere safer, some place unknown to this guy. But he'd simply follow us."

In short, he was saying that we were basically sitting bait for a psychopath who could strike at any moment.

"Do we have any information on who this guy is?" I inquired.

"Glenn acquired the lobby hallway security footage from the building manager. Investigations has been pouring over the tapes for a few days now. While you and I were out at the bar, the security camera picked up the image of a man dressed in dark clothes paying off the super to let him into your apartment." He scowled, and began to crack his knuckles on his left hand. "Needless to say, I'm gonna have a little chat with the super and convince him to skip town." I gulped.

"And because the super gave this guy a key, he can now come and go as he pleases. Which is why a locksmith is coming tomorrow to change the locks." I slowly averted my gaze down to the floor, suddenly feeling over-heated and uncomfortable. I think he could sense my uneasiness because his voice suddenly softened.

"Everything's going to be okay." My eyes met his, and for the first time in days he wasn't cold. He got up from where he was sitting and crossed the living room to open a window, letting the icy air of late November blow into the room. He turned to me again.

"As long as I'm here, you're safe."

,

* * *

I found myself awake in the middle of the night, shivering uncontrollably. My room was beyond frigid, to the point where I could see my breath. I sat up and quickly pulled my silk robe around me as I scurried out to the living room to adjust the thermostat. It was 3 a.m. and when I entered the darkness of the living room I discovered the culprit of the temperature drop. I had forgotten to close the window Rick had opened earlier, and when I went to sleep that night I had opened several more in my attempt to relieve my sudden and unexpected hot flash. I quickly shut and locked them all, and that's when I noticed the silver of yellow light coming from underneath the guest bedroom door. I decided not to spy on him again, so I turned to head back to my room when I heard a groan come from his room. I contemplated for a couple of seconds and realized I couldn't resist as I stept closer and put my ear to the door. I held my breath and listened.

"Fuck." I heard him grind out softly, followed by labored breathing. I jumped back from the door and put my cold hands over my hot cheeks and over my mouth. I thought for sure he was in there masturbating, until I heard him swear again more clearly followed by,

"Why the fuck is it so cold?"

I was sure I would regret this, but I knocked softly on his door and the murmuring stopped.

"Are you okay?" I asked softly through the door. "I... I saw your light on, I know the house is cold. I forgot to shut the windows." After a few beats of silence I figured he was still not interested in talking to me and I began to turn away, when the door opened a jar and Rick looked out at me with tired eyes.

"Yeah I'm fine," He said as he leaned against the door frame and scratched his head lazily. "I'm sorry if I woke you, ...I can't sleep." I noticed a light sheen of sweat on his brow and his body seemed tense.

"Did you need something?" He asked, pulling me out of my thoughts. Without thinking I gently pushed the door aside so I could get closer to him and my hand found his forehead.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" I questioned. "You don't look like yourself. You seem like... you're in pain."

His eyes fell away from mine and I could see him trying to drum up an excuse for me. Maybe it was the cold, or exhaustion, but for whatever reason he sighed and fessed up.

"Sudden and extreme temperature changes make my body hurt." He shifted his weight a little and winced. "Come in, I need to sit down."

I shut the door behind me and sat on the bed as he limped toward the bathroom. I watched him in fascination. I hadn't known him for long, but the only version of him I'd been witness to was powerful, confident and graceful in his movements. Yet even in his weakened state there was still a magnetic energy about him. I was drawn to him like a moth to flames, and I itched to know all I could about this peculiar man.

"You've already seen these, so I guess there's not much use in covering them up anymore." I heard him say before he returned to the bed shirtless, revealing his scars to me and carrying a hand towel that he had soaked in scalding water from the shower and wrung out. The steam billowed off the towel as he held it in his hand and sat next to me, placing it over his shoulder.

He sat down next to me and my eyes roamed over his chest, which was also covered in a couple of scars. He knew I saw him? How in the hell could he have noticed?

His eyes closed and he let out a groan as his head hung down. I watched his strong hand massaging the back of his shoulder as his brow furrowed and he grit his teeth. He was absolutely in pain.

"Let me." He looked at me in surprise and nodded before he turned his back to me and I took hold of the hot towel and pressed it lightly against his scarred flesh. He let out a breath.

We sat in silence for a while and my mind travelled to the past couple of days and how distant he had been to me, knowing that I had invaded his privacy and seen a side of him that he didn't want me to see.

It seemed like the towel wasn't helping as much as I had hoped.

"Can I do anything to help? I have Motrin." I offered. He shook his head and exhaled.

"Not really, it's just something that's gotta run its course. When the weather gets really cold like this it makes my muscles stiff and achy. The hot towels help, but my skin is cracked and the scars sting from the dryness."

A thought popped into my mind at hearing this, and I told him to sit tight while I dashed to my room for something. I turned with a small tube of shea butter-based hand cream.

He had turned to face me again and blinked at me in surprise as I sat next to him. I deposited some hand cream onto my finger tips and gently smoothed it over a scar on his chest. His eyes connected with mine and my heart began to race.

"Am I hurting you?"

"No," he responded. "It's helping."

A few moments of stale silence dragged by as I continued smoothing my hand cream over his wound. Without thinking I flattened my palm over his strong chest and felt his heart beat.

"I'm sorry." I started quietly. "I shouldn't have..." I shook my head, trying to search for the right words.

"It's okay." He suddenly stopped me and took me by my wrist, and my head snapped up to meet his gaze.

"I should be apologizing. I'm sorry about the last few days." His gaze bore into me. "I've been kind of a bastard to you. I just... didn't know what you thought of me." His confession broke my heart.

"Rick..."

"I just want you to know that you don't need to be afraid of me." I paused to absorb this and opened my mouth to respond when his phone buzzed on the night stand. He turned away from me and reached over to grab it and took his towel to hang over the shower stall door to dry.

"It's Hershel," He called to me. He re-entered the bedroom as he fired away a text response and set his phone down again. "He says you've got another doctor's appointment at base tomorrow." I had forgotten all about that. I nodded at him and left the hand cream on his bed for him to use up and made my way to the door when his quiet voice stopped me.

"Thanks for the help, Michy. I mean it." I smiled and nodded, bidding him goodnight.

* * *

I had gone with Rick to the medical station at base. My doctors needed a blood sample from me and since it had been a while since my last check-up, I decided to let them admit me overnight and do the works. The works included full body scans, MRI's, CAT scans, blood testing, a general physical and an endurance test. They liked to keep regular tabs on how my body was behaving, and we usually did all of this two or three times a year.

The next morning I meandered over to the headquarters, having finished all of my tests and decided to pop on some acquaintances if they were around. The main level was its normal buzzing business, I waved to a few familiar faces and found Maggie, Glenn and Hershel walking towards their office in deep conversation when they spotted me.

"Michonne! What a surprise! We thought you would've left by now." Maggie said with a perplexed look about her.

"Yeah, I'm just looking for Rick. I haven't seen him since yesterday. Any idea where he is? I can't exactly leave without him." Hershel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"If I had to guess, he probably started his day by barking at doctors who want to inspect him, and now he's probably in the gym beating the crap out of the new Privates and causing thousands of dollar damage." Maggie and Glenn were trying to supress their laughter while I just stared at them in confusion. I followed them as we wound our way through a maze of hallways and then took an elevator down two floors. As we entered the gym lobby every person we passed sputtered and gaped at the sight of the General, and stood ram-rod straight to salute him as we walked by. His eyes hadn't emerged from under his furrowed brow, and Maggie nearly lost her usual collected facade.

We stepped out onto the runner's catwalk that snaked its way along the massive open gym. Soldiers halted mid-stride to salute Greene, huffing a wheezing as Hershel motioned them at ease so they could continue as they were. I stepped to the railing and looked out over a fitness guru's wet dream. The Training Facility was truly state-of-the-art. Top level machinery ran in rows with an expansive free-weight area to the left. Towards the far back of the room was an open floor for stretching and floor exercises and even a boxing ring. The military held strict rules for physical fitness for anyone who served in the field. Body Mass Index was something they took seriously. I had learned in the past that no expense had been spared for the military's training facility, and they even had a sauna and physical therapists on standby. A favorite pasttime of any skilled soldier was friendly hand-to-hand combat in the open floor space, and that was where I spied Rick.

Hershel was right, even from hundreds of feet away and above all the noise of running tredmills and clanking free weights I could see and hear the smart-mouthed, confident Rick Grimes. We stood for several minutes watching his showy, albeit impressive, display. He was shirtless and barefoot, wearing only his dark grey sweatpants that rode low on his hips. A sheen of sweat glistened across his perfectly sculpted body as he ducked, jumped, swung around kicks and threw punches, fully engrossed in combat with a fellow soldier. He easily sent his opponent limping away with his tail between his legs, when two more young men leapt at him. Watching Rick fight was truly a thing of beauty. He moved with a graceful fluidity that would almost have you believe you were witnessing a choreographed dance. It seemed to be an effortless task, the way he knocked aside each soldier that dared to face him. He took a kick here, a punch there, but would flip backward and away to gather himself before charging full speed into a flurry of jabs, upper cuts, roundhouse kicks, whatever his opponents could throw in the effort to bring him down. Their efforts proved to be futile.

"This is what he always does." Hershel ground out, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. "Every year he comes around he feels the need to test out his fellow soldiers. A lot of these kids just graduated from basic training and have no idea what he's capable of." We walked to the stairway and descended from the cat walk, making our way over to the small crowd of soldiers who had gathered as pleasantly enamored spectators for the friendly fighting. Hershel continued.

"He comes down here to 'train the new recruits in hand-to-hand', has his fun with them and causes thousands of dollars in medical costs and then leaves like it's no big deal. But not today." We pushed our way through the crowd, and I could hear the shocked and stuttering whispers of men and women just then noticing the General's presence. They gasped, saluted, and when they saw who Hershel's attention was fully focused on they shrank away from the scene. They knew what was coming.

"Grimes!" Hershel Greene's powerful and authoritative voice bellowed across the gym, soaring above the surrounding noise and effectively silencing everyone around us. The group of younger men who had gathered in hope to have a shot at Rick stared in shock and began whispering frantically amongst each other, having realized that the famed soldier was somewhere in the room. Their faces were completely dumbstruck when they realized it was the man they'd been attempting to fight. Rick's chest heaved from his 'workout' and when he saw Hershel striding over with the intent to kill his face broke out in that million-dollar, shit-eating grin of his. I realized I had been missing that grin for days.

"Hershel! My favourite commanding officer! How's life?"

"I'm in hell, Grimes, and like usual I've got you to blame. How many times do I have to tell you? If you're going to spar, do it with an officer. Or at least someone who's fought you before. You know, level the playing field a little bit?! It's pathetic how you're tossing around my newest soldiers when they've only just gotten here from basic training!"

It was hard to believe that this was the same guy who had been so weak and in pain a day before. I also had seen Rick's grouchy side at home, but seeing the way his mischievous eyes glimmered with mirth at the agitated General only led me to believe that while he may have been a trouble-maker, he couldn't be a bad person.

"Alright, I'll try to be nicer to your new recruits. But they should know better than to go up against higher ranking soldiers, not just me. It's not my fault they don't know who I am. And besides, I'm just having fun with them. It's not that serious."

"Just having fun?" Hershel balked incredulously. "We just watched you break three of their noses! The military has to pay for their medical expenses Rick, you know this better than most!" Rick rolled his eyes at that and Hershel turned to me, fire burning behind his gaze.

"Pay attention Michonne, these are American tax dollars at work. Rick, I don't give a flying fuck if you wanna get punched in the face by your fellow officers for fun. But when you show up here every now and then and cause the uproar that you always do I can't just sit aside and let you continue. If you break a single bone belonging to any unexperienced fighter under my authority again, so help me God Grimes..."

A wave of gasps and murmurs moved throughout the on-lookers, and that's when Maggie intervened with a soft touch to Hershel's arm.

"Sir." Hershel collected himself and snapped his focus to the crowd with fiery glare.

"What the hell are you all looking at?!" dozens of soldiers snapped to salute, and he barked at them. "As you were!"

They scattered like roaches to the light.

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The next chapter is already finished and might be up in a couple of hours!

Thank you all so much for leaving reviews, they make me soo happy! x


	6. Chapter 6

I really wanna thank you guys for leaving so many nice reviews for this story! Some of them are pure gold, which is why I decided to reply to some!

 **member00: "[...]So it seems to be about what Michonne thinks of him, but I do wonder if Rick also felt thaaangs and needed to put the kibosh on it by distancing himself.[...]"**

 **trininads: "[...]Rick slept on the couch smh I think homeboy felt a certain way sleeping next to "Michy" lol so to separate himself he acted like a jerk. [...]"**

\- lmaoo Rick definately 'felt a certain way' and he definately 'felt thaaangs'. For now I'll keep his thoughts to myself but I might post a chapter from his POV of that night. I bet some of you would love to hear what he was thinking in that bed asklslffff

 **Richonne4Life: Rick's insecurity about his scars just broke my heart. Of course he knew that she saw him! I thought he was feeling awkward about being in bed with Michonne when got in bed and faced away from her at the end of chapter 4, but he was just feeling insecure. I'm so glad he opened up to her and let her know why he was being cold towards her. I think when he showed Michonne his scars and she helped him with his pain, she became that much more important to Rick [...]"**

\- your review honestly made me so happy I love how you 100% get what I'm trying to build and how invested you are!

 **Nwfanmega: "[...] Rick sparing and getting yelled at by Herschel was pretty funny. Loved how you wrote Michonne's reaction to all of it and her slow realization that he's complicated, but a good person. [...]**

\- glad to hear you found that scene funny! thank you for your review it means a lot! x

 **yoda476life: "Throughly enjoying this version of Rick but I'm not sure about Michonne though. However, my opinion could change as it's still very early in the story."**

\- I'm happy to hear you enjoy the story! And I get what you mean. The Michonne in my story is very different to tv Michonne, more anxious and that's why she might seem weak to a lot of readers. But that might change about her soon, with the help of Rick and through everything that's about to happen. Let me know what you think of her in the next couple of chapters, I'd love to hear your feedback x

 **courtgirl26: [...] I loved that he gave her a nickname, Michy. Interesting and intimate.**

\- lol thanks! in my mind he's kind of mocking/teasing her with it. but she secretly likes it haha!

Thank you all for your amazing reviews! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Anyways, here's the next chapter x

* * *

"I've never seen Hershel get so angry before. I never knew he had it in him." I said to Rick in wonder as we stood in the uptown 1 train. Seeing Hershel so pissed off was quite the spectacle, but nothing compared to the sight of a grinning Rick – shirtless, heaving, with sweat sheening over the dips and lines of every sculpted muscle. His abdomen and pectorals contoured naturally from rigorous exercise, something he no doubt kept up not only for fun and stress relief, but for peak and performance in whatever it was he did for a living. All the one-armed push-ups he did at home showed their worth.

"Oh he's got it in him." Rick started. "He let's it boil and fester under the surface for a while and then one day... boom."

He let out a yawn. "He's been yelling at me for doing dumb shit since I was a kid."

This was surprising.

"You've known the General since you were a kid?" Rick's eyes widened a fraction and blinked in stupor, looking like he'd just allowed exhaustion to let the cat out of the bag. He quickly collected himself and continued cooly,

"Uh... yeah he's a family friend. Met him when I was 13."

"Where is your family?" I pressed. I was fascinated with the lives of other people. Not in the voyeuristic way that reality television had turned society into, but real human interest. My life had largely been boring, lonely, and sad. I didn't have friends anymore and my family had been lost when I was only a child. My Grandmother was a busy old chicken with her own flower shop. Now that I had someone in my life, someone to actually exist around, I craved to know what his world was like outside of the one he'd been forced into. The one with me. These open moments with the military man were few and far between, and I planned on seizing each one of them as they came my way.

"Where are you from? Do you have any siblings?" His expression immediately darkened and his eyes turned cold and hard. The train pulled into our station and we exited the car and walked up the stairs to the street in silence. It wasn't until a few minutes later, while we made our way down my quiet street towards the apartment, that he finally responded.

"I'm sorry Michonne, I really can't tell you that." His focus remained straight ahead, but I could see from his profile alone that this was an uncomfortable subject. His eyes were always intense and alert, weather he be pleasant or irritable or angry. Even when he slept his face seemed to always be perfectly aware of his surroundings at all times, and I could read that piercing intensity even as it was covered by closed eyes. But his eyes were different now. His sharpness had morphed into something dreadful, and melancholy washed over his features. My nosiness had conjured something unsettling, and seeing the sadness etched in him squeezed my heart in the worst of ways. The rest of the walk home was silent, and as we entered my apartment my land line started ringing.

"Let the machine get it." Rick softly commanded. We both knew that if it were anyone from the military they would reach us on Rick's cell phone. They would only use the land line if they couldn't get us but neither of us had received a call or a text and we had both just been at base.

 _"How can you do this to me? How can you torture me like this?"_ It was the voice of a man. It sounded deep and raspy, like the one from my previous voicemail. I shot Rick a worried expression and he quickly crossed the room and hit the speaker button so he could hear.

"Who is this?" I questioned, setting the phone back in its rest. Rick mouthed to me with exaggerated gestured to keep him talking as he pulled his phone from his pocket and opened his sound recorder app.

The miserable, deep voice on the phone started again, _"I'm the one that loves you, Michonne. And yet you won't be with me. We could do incredible things together, Michonne. Can't you see how much I need you?"_ My focus flickered over to Rick and he was stone-faced, staring ahead with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. I could see the muscles move in his strong jaw in aggravation, and his mouth was set in a grim line.

"Have we met before? Have I seen you somewhere?" The man on the phone chuckled bitterly at this, and I heard him draw a shaky breath.

 _"We've never met, and you've never seen me. But I know your beautiful face, Michonne. Your perfect face, your perfect body. We could be so great together, and you wouldn't be so lonely anymore. No more testing, no more blood transfusions. You wouldn't have to be afraid of people. They would be afraid of us! They would finally give you the respect you deserve! It can all be over so quickly if you just come to me. I'll make it all better."_

My heart rate sped up and sweat broke out on my brow despite the frosty November air outside. I wasn't sure if it was my anxiety or the cranked heat but suddenly I was woozy and sweltering.

"Come to you?" I questioned nervously.

 _"Oh yes, my love. But I can't accept you if you continue to betray me like this."_ He muttered aggressively.

I felt Rick's hand gently push my hair from my shoulder and rest on the back of my neck, a welcome relief that managed to keep my wits about me.

"What do you mean? How have I betrayed you?"

 _"Do you think I'm blind? Or just fucking stupid? I've seen his shit lying around. You and I can't be together until you stop living with that fucking bastard!"_

Our gazes snapped towards each other.

 _"Don't worry Michonne,"_ The man continued. _"I know you'll come around soon. I know you'll make the right decision and get rid of him once you find out what he truly is like. We can be together Michonne... Remember, I love you."_ The line went dead. We stood there for a moment, taking it all in as the steady dial-tone hummed throughout the apartment. Rick reached over and pushed the button to hang up sighing and turning to me.

"I really wish that was just an ex-boyfriend of yours so I could find him and break his legs." I couldn't pull my gaze from the floor. My mind was too busy launching into the worst-case scenarios and panic creep into my chest. When I finally blinked back into awareness Rick was close to me and with his arm holding mine, shaking me gently.

"Michy? Are you with me?" He asked somewhat nervously. Those intense blue orbs of his danced across my face up weather or not I was about to pass out. I gulped and nodded, replying that I was alright, and needed a shower to calm my nerves.

"Use mine." He said softly, texting furiously on his phone. He was no doubt sending the recording to Daryl in Investigations and also to Hershel. I almost argued, but figured there was no point and frankly I didn't have the strength.

,

* * *

It was early evening when I emerged from my 30 minute shower and finally relaxed. Showering always had a way of making me feel human again. I could feel the tenseness in my back release as the scalding water rained over me. It had a way of clearing the mind like nothing else. I was wrapping my wet, naked form in a white towel when Rick sauntered into the bathroom.

"Oh good, you haven't drowned yourself." He said casually. I couldn't help rolling my eyes.

"You know, everything doesn't have to be a big joke." I snapped, my previous tranquility ruined by his intrusion. With all that's going on, the scary phone calls, and now him sauntering in on my practically naked and cracking wise about weather I'd chosen to opt out, my privacy was feeling pretty invaded. A predicament I hadn't experienced since hoards of strangers circled my childhood home banging on my bedroom windows and moaning like zombies about how much they needed me. His hands went up in front of him defensively.

"Woah Michy. I'm just trying to lighten the mood a bit. You need to relax." This made my blood boil and I stepped to him to look up at his smug face.

"Stop telling me what to do all the time! I'm so tired of everyone in my life ordering me around. My grandmother keeps telling me to drive out to see how she gutted my childhood bedroom without bothering to ask me first. Hershel had been bossing me around for years telling me where to go and how to dress to not get attention and what procedures the doctors will need me for, and now I've got you here. Telling me what to eat, forcing me to go out when I'm not comfortable, telling me to stop having panic attacks when someone breaks into my house to hang a fake dead body in my living room."

He stood hands on hips with a cocked eyebrow full of attitude as he took my tirade.

"You tried to make me not answer the phone earlier, and then you ordered me to shower in your bathroom when I could easily shower in mine. What the fuck for? I know Hershel put you in charge but do you have to control everything?! For God's sake you just waltzed in here without knocking and I'm nearly naked!" Our chests nearly touched and I could feel the red anger boiling inside me as I bore my brown eyes into him.

"First of all," He started calmly, "I've already seen you naked. Remember when I heard you fall in the shower? And Secondly, I need you to not have a heart attack everytime something happens because my job is to keep you safe, and I can't think clearly when all I do is worry about y- …" he cut himself off from finishing that sentence and I felt my heart skip a beat.

"I can't help you with your Grandmother either," he continued, "But I may be able to do something about Hershel if you would only let me in a bit. I don't know what the rules are with you. I have no idea what you're dealing with on a personal level, Michonne. I don't know what makes you so important to the military. I'm ordering you around because I need to protect you from this lunatic and I don't know enough about you to create compromise. All I know is that you hate leaving your apartment, you don't have any friends outside the military, and you never mention family besides your Grandmother. You're not living your life, Michy."

"I _am_ living my life! Sure it's not perfect, and it gets lonely, but I'm doing something important. I'm trying to make a difference." I fought back.

"And what difference is that exactly? What difference are you making by caging yourself in this apartment? You don't work, you won't leave unless forced, you sit here all day painting and reading books. And then you turn around and complain about Hershel telling you to lay low." His irritated expression softened along with his voice. "You crave experience, I can tell. If you want to live a real life, do it. Stop being afraid."

I huffed and shot back at him, "I am not afraid!"

"Really? When was the last time you took a chance? Tell me about the last time you did something risky." He had stepped closer to me, his voice dropping to a deep and raspy murmur. The blue gaze I had been glaring daggers at fell down the front of me, taking in the state of undress.

"Is that my towel?"

I shifted uncomfortably, adjusting the towel more snuggly across my bust so it wouldn't fall.

"I... I forgot mine and it was the only one in here. Sorry." His gaze flickered back to mine.

"I'm not complaining." His roaming eyes settled on every inch of me and warmth crept to my face, but we were interrupted by the gently hum of his cell phone vibrating in his pocket.

"Grimes here." He answered as I slinked past him to head to my room. As I shut my bedroom door behind me, I found myself replaying our argument in my head. Why exactly was I so irrationally angry? Yes I was tired and fed up, and torn between living this lonely life that could save the world or experiencing a normal life that would put me in a spotlight I didn't want. I hadn't had friends or a semi-average life since High School. I tried to keep my condition a secret, but school nurse with big mouths let the cat out of the bag and it wasn't long before the entire school knew. What started as awe, wonder and admiration quickly soured into jealousy, prejudice and misunderstanding. Friends of mine stopped talking to me because someone had told them that having this blood condition meant believing oneself to be perfect. They assumed I thought myself too good for them. Girls in the halls and locker room would shoot me dirty looks as I passed by, because I was naturally thin and toned, because I had clear skin, because my thick hair grew quickly, because my curves developed early. They hated me because I never got sick, and I never got allergies, I never even got acne and I had 20/20 vision.

The doctors had told me and my grandmother that I would grow up to be a vitually perfect specimen, but I never understood what that meant until high school. Rumours flew around and my reputation suffered even more. Girls gossiped about me out of jealousy because of my looks, and they hated me for the way their boyfriends' eyes would follow me as I walked by. Guys would whistle at me in the halls and mutter lewd comments under their breath. Junior year when I decided to focus my attention and frustration on sports, my peer's distain for me only grew. My exceptional hand-eye coordination served me well during try outs for softball and basketball, and when I went out for cross-country I outran even their fastest member. The coaches were delighted, and I thought I had finally somewhere to belong. But envious students told of what they had learned about me, and it was decided that I wouldn't be allowed to play sports because of my condition gave me an unfair advantage. Even the booksmart kids wouldn't talk to me. They studied their asses off to maintain good grades, but A's and B's came easily to me because I was smart and liked to learn. Life after school was still difficult, any romantic relationships I entered would start out normal enough. But after getting close and comfortable, every boyfriend I had told about myself was at first fascinated and then eventually irritated because I cured diseases but never wanted to leave the house. They would see the experiments I went through and decide they couldn't handle a 'perfect' girlfriend and leave. The military would have to pay them to be quiet about me, so I eventually stopped pursuing any relationships. I got tired of guys getting excited about the thought of 'sex with the perfect woman' only to leave when they realized just how imperfect I actually am, and every failed attempt at love was humiliating.

I shook away the painful memories and went to my walk-in closet to change when Rick's voice sounded from the other side of the door.

"You're not gonna believe what Hershel is making us do."


	7. Chapter 7

I'm back with chapter 7!

Here are some reviews quickly wanted to respond to:

 **courtgirl26: "[...] That would be great to do a Rick's POV chapter to find out what he's been thinking from the very beginning. I loved how Rick just calmly responded to her rant. The man does pay attention. [...]"**

\- I've actually decided that at least one chapter in this story is gonna be in Rick's POV because I think it's definately gonna be necessary to show you what Rick thinks during certain events... Also, I'm currently working on a new chapter that's about Rick and the day right before he met Michonne. I'm not sure if I'll include it in this story or if I'll post the chapter as a seperate story. Thank you for your review! Rick is absolutely paying attention haha!

 **member00: "[...] Ooh the confrontation/Michonne's snapping was great. Her nerves are shot and even if it wasn't for the stalker, she's been so traumatized and lonely all her life. Glad she's getting it out. Though Rick made total sense: "I don't know enough about you to create compromise." Loved that! [...]"**

 **Nwfanmega: "[...] That convo in the bathroom was pitch perfect. Michonne is a bit of an enigma, but her fear and panic make perfect sense. [...]"**

\- Thank you both! I really hoped that I could make both sides in this discussion understandable. Michonne has been through a lot and now that it's kind of coming to a point where she can decide how she wants to continue living her life she's just really confused and doesn't know what she really wants. I love to hear that my readers have empathy for her!

 **also member00: "[...] Rick, just take the towel. We don't stand for stealing here...take it! :P [...]"**

 **grimes1970: "[...] i thought michonne was going to kiss him or drop her towel lol. [...]"**

 **also courtgirl26: "Rick asking Michonne when was the last time she did something risky, I thought she was going to drop that towel, lol! [...]"**

\- lmaooo I honestly didn't even think of that! I guess Michonne is still a little too shy to pull that off haha but we'll see if that's gonna change! really loved your comments haha

 **also Nwfanmega: "[...] I read your a/n about some interpreting Michonne as weak, which is something I don't really see. She's been isolated and protected for so long that her shyness and insecurity makes sense. It's also telling that she does actually CRAVE human contact, so it's been fascinating watching her try to get Rick to open up, while also trying to do the same for herself. [...]"**

\- wow thank you for that comment! yeah, Michonne in my story has went through different struggles than the Michonne we know on tv, so it makes sense for her to act anxious or shy sometimes. But she still wants change in her life, even if it seems scary. I think that says a lot about her strength.

 **Richonne4Life: "[...] Even if nothing happens between Rick and Michonne on a romantic level (It has to get smutty romantical, right? *puppy dog eyes*), it's clear that Michonne has a friend in Rick Grimes. [...]"**

\- weeeelll, I obviously don't wanna spoil anything for you, but patience will be rewarded! haha

Thank you for all your lovely reviews! They literally make my day!

Without further ado, here's chapter 7!

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* * *

The Sheraton Hotel in Atlanta was a true hidden gem. It wasn't truly an Inn, but a dark and lavish setting for a live, dream-like re-telling of Shakespeare's Mcbeth that made both tourists and locals question whether they were cognisant or hallucinating. The shadowy halls wound like a labryinth all over, from the lobby to the great room, upstairs and downstairs, in and out of the secret passage ways and through dimly lit lounges. This playground holding the show known as 'Sleep No More' was presented as a decadant building of luxury condemmed and locked in the late 1930s at the start of the second World War, and then re-opened to the public in present day.

The parties were gatsby-esque in their excess, where only top-shelf liqor poured at all of the 10 bars throughout the hotel and prepared Absinthe was kept in massive crystal decanters for the guests to help themselves. The attention to detail rivaled that of Disney Imagineers, with long hand-carved mahogany bars and dimy-lit lounges boasting red velvet-tufted walls and enormous chandeliers dripping crystals. There were narrow passage ways leading from one smoky lounge to another, and a massive great room featuring panels of red and purple chiffon draped from the ceiling, obscuring any on-lookers who might be creeping along with the car-walks and bacolnies suspended above. Roaming the building from the front desk all the way up to the rooftop deck transported you to a world merging the 1920's speak-easy social scene with the haunting suspense of Stephen King's The Shining.

This dark and twisted living fairytale world served as host for this year's gathering of the Atlanta Charitable Society's annual frundraiser, a prestigeous event that the military attended and donated to each year. This year was special though, for the charity in which the fundraiser was being held was the Wounded Warrior Project. The Wounded Warrior Project was a non-profit started for the purpose of raising awareness and enlisting the public's help for severly injured military members. It continues on to also help injured service members aid one-another, and provides unique and direct services and programs to wounded service members. Since this year's benefitting non-profit hit so close to home, Hershel saw it that every available Active Duty member be in attendance. He also informed Rick that there would be certain soldiers present that may not be trust-worthy, and could possible give us information about my stalker.

Grimes moaned and groaned of course, complaining that he hated being forced to clean up. But for someone who claimed to do it so infrequently, he sure cleaned up well. He wore an expensive and expertly-tailored suit of black on black, and opted to leave the tie behind, favoring a open collar instead. His hair was neatly pulled back and for once didn't seem so tousled. His beard was trimmed and when we walked in the Sheraton's great room many of the hundreds of heads followed him. The women's out of lust, the men's out of envy.

As we mingled with faces both familiar and the contrary, I began to notice many of the lingering looks Rick had gotten earlier had now been bestowed upon myself. It made me a little self-consious, and I wasn't sure if I was getting stared at out of admiration or shocked offense. Having been roped into this last second, I put on the only dress I owned that was fancy. An impulse purchase that sat in the back of my closet with the tags still on for years, until today. It was a strapless white chiffon and it fit me through the bust and torso like a glove. The layers of chiffon floated around my hips like softly billoughing clouds as I walked, and I was nervous about the dress because not only was it strapless and fitted with a low-cut back, but it was dangerously short. Rick wasted no time in asking why I was wearing a dress smaller than it's 'how to wash' tag. I had no other options and very little time, so I threw on some makeup and pulled my braids into a half-up-half-down hairstyle. As we were about to leave I slipped into 4-inch peep-toe heels and out on the only precious jewelery I owned. A necklace with the letter 'M' that I got from my mother to lay on my chest where she would be close to my heart. I turned around to look at myself one last time in the floor lenght mirror and noticed Rick glaring at me from the side. I grinned at him and playfully raised my eyebrow. Having been caught checking me out he breathed out a laugh and moved his head, signaling me to get going. He wasn't going to admit that he liked what he saw.

I was relieved when I was taken by the arm by Sasha, who had been a friend for years.

"There you are!" She exclaimed as she pulled me away from my escort for what I could only suspect would be girl-talk. She stuck her tongue out at Rick and winked playfully, and he grinned in response as he ordered a drink and struck up conversation with 2nd lieutenant Morgan Jones. I was ushered across the great room and down a dark hallway that lead to one of the many lounges, and was met with the smiling faces of Maggie and our friend Rosita. The four of us sat across form each other on tufted loveseats of emerals velvet and a tray of Hendrick's martinis was set on the table between us.

"Okay Michonne, spill." Sasha said as I slipped my gin martini nervously. The dripping tapers on the table only enhanced the sparkling mirth in the eyes of my three companions. "What's it like to live with the hottest guy on the planet?"

"Umm it's okay I guess." This clearly wasn't a satisfactory response.

"Does he snore?" Sasha asked.

"Does he leave the seat up?" Maggie inquired with a nibble on her olive.

"Have you seen him naked? How's his butt?"

I nearly choked on my gin. The girls howled in laughter.

"Oh come on Michonne, you've gotta give us something here." Rosita added. "The only people who've ever lived with Grimes are the soldiers who go on missions with him, and they won't tell us a thing. Bro code, you know? What happends on tour of duty, stays on tour of duty."

I composed myself and began twisting a single braid around my finger in nervous contemplation.

"Well.. there's not much to tell really. He always wakes up before I do, he's usually on his phone, he works out in the guest bedroom alot. I haven't heard any snoring and we have sperate bathrooms so I don't know if he leaves the seat up. And I wouldn't know how his butt is because I haven't seen it." This of course, was a lie.

Maggie eyes me speculativly, raising an eyebrow at me and a grin slowly tugging at her lips.

"It was an accident." I finally caved, seeing that it would be useless to try to hide it. The three of them squealed in delight. "He was showering and left the door open a little, and I was walking past and just happened to look up.."

"I bet it was spectacular view, right?" Sasha added animatedly, and she and the other two giggled and launched into chatter about some other topic, leaving me to to ponder Shasha's assumption. Rick Grimes could be considered comparable to summitting a mountain. Since seeing him that night I had been opened up to many new sides of Rick that I wasn't expecting. While I was happy to have a few answers, I couldn't help but notice that every question answered only led to new questions. When Rick moved in, I had wanted us to become friendly. I wanted us to get to know each other. And I was itching to uncover more of his secrets. But with every mile-maker I hit on the way up Mt. Grimes I found baggage. And the baggage became heavier with each step. I couldn't help but wonder. When I reach the summit, will the view really be spectacular? Or will the weight of the baggage make the destination not worth the difficult journey?

We continued to chat for awhile longer, when I realied I was starving and excused myself to go find catering or at least a waiter walking around with tray of bacon-wrapped scallops. I made my way down the narrow and shadowy hallway towards the great room when I found my path suddenly cut off by a tall man with a buzzcut wearing a blue suit. His eyes shone mischieviously, but in a way that made my stomach turn, and his smirk didn't hold the boyish charm of Rick's. His expression was undoubtably sinister in nature.

"You're that girl Grimes came with tonight, right?" He stepped closer to me.

"He's dangerous, you know. Gotta be careful around him." Liquor seared over his breath, and his sharp eyes melted in his innebreation. "I mean sure, I knew they wouldn't send me to look after you because I'm not the most popular choice either, but him? He's a ticking time bomb." He let out a laugh.

Shane Walsh was a seasoned soldier same as Rick. Over the years I hadn't failed to pick up the wispers of others whenever he was around. He preferred working alone, an unusual trait for a soldier seeing how the miliary intensely promotes teamwork. I had encountered him many times, and his stare always seemed to linger far too long and in areas it shouldn't travel to anyway. One of the Sergeants that I counted to one of my good friends, Dale, seemed always really nervous around him, and Daryl was never one to sugar-coat his distain for Walsh. Daryl had told me repeatedly over the years that he was a deceptive snake who was rumored to have involvement in truly horrific actions. The only reason he hand't been dis-honorably discharged years ago was because of lack of evidence against him. The higher-ups also wanted him around in times of war, for he had proven to be ruthless in battle; unafraid to do whatever was necessary in assuring the success of his mission. This only added to his controversial status; I heard he had slaughtered a bystanding child who crossed his path in the middle east and – accoording to him- posed a threat.

"Hello Mr. Walsh. Good turn-out this evening. Wounded Warrior should raise a lot of money, don't you think?" My efforts to steer the subject into neutral territory proved to be futile, for it seemed he never heard me.

"You have no idea what he is, do you?" He suddenly shoved me against the wall and we were bathed in shadows where no one would see. My fearful heart hammered in my chest and his putrid, liquor-soaked breath fell across my ear. "You don't know that he's a freak. Sure, people say that I'm bad, that I can't be trusted. But I'm not like him. Even the general, his biggest fan, doesn't trust him. Not completely."

I figeted under him, desperatly wanting to run being held by brute force. I felt his fingers dancing along the hem of my dress, skimming my thigh as his grip maintained on my arm. His face got dangerously close and I turned my face from his and squeeted my eyes shut, but self-deprivation of vision only forced me to hear his words more profoundly.

"Hell, Greene fought tooth and nail to see that he wasn't the one to be your guard." My eyes shot open at this and I turned to him as he continued.

"The only reason he's with you and not fighting the enemy is because of orders that came from over Greene's head. The general keeps him travelling for a reason. He's perfect in the field but when he sits home for too long his mental screws get loose. I know Daryl told you to stay away from me, but what has anyone told you about Grimes? Have you heard about his past? You probably don't even know about his scars and wounds. Where they come from. How about the fact that he's been in the military since he was fourteen? I bet you don't even know what he actually does."

I couldn't take anymore.

"Get the fuck off of me."

"We kill people, honey. We're trained government assasins. He gets paid a handsome price to slaughter people in the most brutal ways. Has he told you that? Judging by the way you look at him I'd say not. You look at him like he's so fucking perfect but you wouldn't think that if you knew what he's capable of. If you knew what he did when he was just a kid. He seems fine on the surface, but deep down he's a monster."

His grip on my hip and arm got unbarebly tight and felt panic build inside my chest.

With my free hand I slapped him in the face as hard as I could and broke free of his grasp, pushing him off me. He stumbled backwards. I ran a hand over my dress to smooth it again and let out a breath to calm myself. Then I turned and left him standing there, holding his aching cheek and chuckling sinisterly.

* * *

I entered the great hall again, exhausted from the onslaught both physical and mental. Shane's warning echoed in my mind over and over, and my rational brain knew that all rumors were rooted in some truth. Shane was right, I shouldn't be so trusting of Rick because I really barely knew him. It all made sense now. The bags of guns in his room, the expensive sheets and clothes, the black Astron Martin he drove us here in, the reason he could fight the way he did, the reason he slept with a gun under his pillow. He was a government assasin. Every fiber of my logical brain screamed that this had just gone from bad to worse, and that I needed to find a way to get Rick Grimes out of my life.

But my heart. My ridiculous, non-sensical heart. It fluttered like the rapid beating wings of the butterflies in my stomach whenever I saw him. Any attempt my brain would make to convince me to sleep in every morning was rebuffed by my heart, blooming with joy at the sound of his steady voice on the phone as it carried from the kitchen. This most vulnerable of organs was reduced to a squeezed pulp of bled emotion during any adorable commercial or thoughtful card from my Grandmother, and yet one flash of his dazzling grin was the charge that shocked my heart back into rapid living.

I took a deep breath to collect myself and went on my mission to find Rick so we could talk. Shane may have claimed him to be dangerous, but the eyes of the man who took me gently by the wrist and told be I needn't fear were not the eyes of a monster. It seemed that while I had been pre-occupied the number of people in attendance had tripled, and now included not only members of the military, but also members of the press, representatives of affiliated charities and causes, celebrities, politicians, even the Mayor of the city of Atlanta. I weaved between people, searching for Rick. A hand slipped around my elbow and I whirled around to find his gimmering eyes and devious smirk.

"I was about to send a search party." He joked calmly. I couldn't help but beam at the sight of him.

"Sorry," I exhaled with relief. "I got lost, this place is huge and dark. I think we can get out of here if you've got a flashlight and google maps."

His smirk became a thousand-watt smile, and he downed the remainder of his amber liquid and left the empty glass on the nearby bar.

"We might as well. My bid won the silent auction which means I'm out 12 grand. I think I've had enough excitement for one night." I could sense that he had the same idea I did; sweatpants and the sofa. We made the goodbye rounds as quickly as we could without seeming like we were rushing, stopping for his handshakes and my playful jabs with the guys and my hugs with the girls. We walked out onto the city street as snow began to delicately fall from the blackened sky and Rick stopped suddenly.

"Shit, I forgot." He stated. "I never closed my tab. Gimme just a sec, wait inside it's cold out."

I smiled softly and said I'd be along in just a moment, and he dissappeared back inside. I was nearly 3 a.m., and the city was suspened in the rare, beautiful silence of a quiet winter night. The cold air was invigorating to breathe, and standing alone on the street was a welcome release from the swarms of people inside. My peaceful reverie was short-lived however, when I heard boisterous laughter of two men walking towards the entrance as they tossed aside their cigarettes. We made brief eye contact as they walked by, and that's when one of them stopped.

"No way. Michonne? Michonne Anthony? Holy shit, it really is you!" The taller man said. I recognized his cocky grin. I went to high school with these guys. Mike and Terry, I remembered their names because I didn't really have friends in high school, but I knew them as the ring leaders of the circus of absurd boys who would whistle at me and murmur vulgarities as I walked by. Mike chuckled and added,

"Oh my god I can't believe we almost walked past you! I didn't think you could get any hotter but god damn you proved me wrong. We just scored some coke, wanna party?"

"Thanks for the offer, but I'm good." I way praying that Rick would come back outside. Just then Mike put his hand to his mouth in stunned realization.

"Oh snap I just remembered! Hey, was all that stuff we heard about you true?" Dread krept in my stomach, and I knew what was coming. There was a familiar shift in the air, and I felt the door open next to me. Rick was walking toward me when Terry piped up.

"Oh yeah! Like all that stuff about you having that rare blood condition or whatever? You know, the one that they talked about in the news, 'perfect blood'!" I closed my eyes in frustration because my parriferial vision had witnessed Rick stop in his tracks at hearing this. I didn't have a chance to even ponder how to respond because they just wouldn't shut the hell up.

"So doesn't that mean you can't get diseases? Or like, STDs and shit? That's gotta be so awesome, you can fuck whoever you want without a condom and no worries!"

My mind screamed at them to stop. I would've given anything to avoid Rick from finding out my secret and these two inconsiderate fools were dragging me through the same hell I went through as a child. Their obnoxious laughter cut through the quiet night, and my blood boiled.

"Shut up." I said. "You don't know what you're talking about."

They looked at me with surprise.

"Oh come on, Michonne. Everyone was talking about it." Terry announced. "I don't get what you're so upset about. Every guy in school was obsessed with you and are you really that surprised? I mean look at you! No wonder girls didn't like you."

I let out an exhausted breath and turned to Rick.

"Can we go?" He didn't look at me. He sent an icy glare at the two men and strode forward to take me to his car, when Terry spoke up again.

"Ahh, forget you. You were a prude then and you're still a fucking prude now!" Just when I thought my humiliation could never soar to higher reaches, we heard Mike add loudly,

"She's not a prude man, Daniel Lawrin told be he stuffed her from behind in the locker room Senior year! He said she must have Perfect Blood because she had the most perfect, tight pussy!"

Rick screeched to a halt next to me, his eyes turned down to the sidewalks which were now dusted with fine white powder. He pulled off his suit blazer and I felt it slip over my shaking shoulders. After pulling the key fob from his pocket, he pointed it at his car, unlocked it and pressed the fob into my hand.

"Lock yourself in and don't open it till I get back." He ordered. My throat began to tighten as I locked into his fierce eyes.

"Rick, let's just go.."

He exhaled focefully like an angry bull, not saying anything. He wouldn't budge. When I slammed the passenger side door and locked it, I looked up to see him stalking back up the street towards the disgusting pair who were doubled over laughing at their callous words and not paying attention to their surroundings. That was when I first saw Rick truly change. His steps were reminisent of panthers in the wild, steady, fluid and unhurried; waiting for opportune moment to strike. His hands began to flex in preparation and he cracked his knuckles in his hand. His hardened gaze held on his target and he smiled wickedly. In his anger Rick had become something else entirely. When he threw his first powerful punch Shane's words of warning echoed within me.

 _"He's a ticking time bomb... you should be afraid.. he's a monster."_

* * *

That's it for chapter 7! As always, the next chapter should be posted tomorrow.

Let me know what you thought :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Dejede: "When I heard Mike I didn't know which way it was going to go. Romantic connection with old boyfriend or something else. Loved the something else."**

\- thank you! glad to hear you liked that x

 **richie: "Merry got what they deserved. I hope R. gives them a good beat down. Shane should be next. At least R. is not trying to molest her in dark hallways. shane is just jealous and trying to make mess. [...]"**

 **RBGzMom: "Rick Vader is on the loose. I can't wait for Shane to fall under the Ricktatorship. [...]"**

 **courtgirl26: "What a bunch of douches, and I'm not mad at Rick at all. It's kind of hot, but then he's hot, so there's that, lol! [...]"**

 **DramionEverlarkPeetatoRichonne: "Lorde lorde lorde Mike and Terry are about to be in shitsville now! Rick Grimes is a raging bull alright! Damn love me a violent savage as fuck dominant Rick, Shane's gonna get it one way or another too. [...]"**

\- hahah they are! Shane should definately keep an eye out! And yesss to both of you; i mean who doesn't love Rick when he's angry asdkjf

 **Luvfreakysyfy: "[...] I don't think Michonne is weak she is just not that confident, but because Rick has her back, she knows that someone is there for her, where as before she had no one, and when u don't have someone watching your back and you are isolated confidence is hard to come by. I see that changing for her through his company, he needs someone to care about him and he deserves it I think, Green wouldn't have put Rick there if he didn't trust him. [...]"**

\- thanks for your lovely comment! I agree!

 **Trinrichonnetrash: "This chapter was so damn good. So now Rick knows Michonne's secret but when will she know his? Were those things Shane said about Rick true or have some degree of truth? Is sexy ass Rick a government assasin? I'm putting Shane down as my prime suspect in Michonne's stalker case. I liked that Michonne heard Rick's words in her head and it propelled her to be brave and slap Shane's disgusting ass. Now Rick's about to phuck Mike and Terry up. Lard. Just don't kill 'em Rick. Dang this story is good. [...]"**

\- wow thank you! There's definately more to Rick's backstory. Hopefully this chapters answers some of your questions!

 **Richonne4Life: [...] The way you described a dressed up Michy and Rick made me all warm and fuzzy. I was thinking they were very Disney prince and princess-like until Rick made the comment about her dress being shorter than the tag. LMAO! So Bey and Jay-Z it is! [...]**

\- Haha l I love that!

Thank you all for your reviews! They make my day and I never thought there would be so many people interested in this story!

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

x

* * *

The drive home was silent and uncomfortable. Rick never glanced my way; his angry eyes were targeted on the road in front of us as we sped towards home. I could feel the moisture welling up in my eyes and I knew Rick would not be oblivious to this. There was nothing he didn't notice. My eyes slid over to him and my heart raced at the sight of him. He was the physical embodiment of raw power and he sent this message in subtle ways, barely moving at all. It was in the unwavering feirceness of his gaze, in the way he clenched his jaw when he was angry or stressted, in the confident smirk he wore. His right hand moved to grip the top of the steering wheel, and I saw the blood on his knuckles.

We finally pulled into the parking garage on my street and after finding a spot he powered down the engine and just stared at the wheel for a moment, seemingly engrossed in contemplation. The quiet tension continued to thicken. After several moments I glanced at him nervously, humiliated from the encounter and anxious to know what he was thinking.

"Say something?" I said quietly. He remained silent; never looking my way and angled himself out of the vehicle. Before I knew it my side door was opened and he looked away from me as I stood up. We walked back to my apartment and he opened the door, ushering me inside and thats when I whirled around.

"What the hell is your problem? I'm sorry I didn't tell you before but I never thought you'd react like this. Why are you so mad?"

"I'm processing." He corrected, closing the door behind him and tumbling the dead bolt into place. "All of this is supposed to be a myth."

"The military worked very hard for a very long time to turn the reality of my condition into a myth. They've worked secretly with the media for years drip-feeding the idea to the public so that when the truth comes out someday, hopefully the reaction will be different from before. More controlled, less chaotic for me. This was all over the news when I was a little girl, don't you remember it? It was huge worldwide when those rumours about the 'zombie virus', as they liked to call it, spread."

I had shrugged out of his blazer and he rolled his sleeves to his elbows, getting comfortable as he eyed me in speculation.

"When did this all happen?"

I thought back for a moment. "Well I was seven, so twenty years ago. Wow, I can't believe its been that long." I could see the gears turning in his mind as he did the math.

"If you were 7 that would have made me 9 when this happened..." His voice trailed off and his eyeline fell to look past me. "No, I don't recall anything about this in the news."

Silence slipped over us before his eyes fixated on me once again.

"Your arm." He started as he stepped closer to me. "Why is it bruised? Did those guys-"

"No. It wasn't them." I covered the yellowish blue spots fro my skin with my hand, shying away from Rick's analyzing gaze. "I... I ran into Shane back at the fundraiser. He was drunk. It's not a big deal, I'm fine.

My attempt at waving it off was wasted on Rick, who's look of irritation was back full-force.

"He and I don't exactly get along. What did he say to you?" Shane's dreadful words replayed in my mind like a broken record. The warning that I had easily shaken off earlier had reattached themselves to my psyche after witnessing Rick's reaction to the comments from the two druggies outside.

"Nothing," I lied. "Just a bunch of incoherant babbling. He was slurring his words."

"Don't lie to me. Shane was one of the soldiers Hershel sent me to question. If he said something to you I need to know."

I stared at him for a few seconds, contemplating if I should really be honest with him. Could I really trust him? The fact that I was hesitating baffled him.

"Michonne.. I'm on your side." He said, confused by my behaviour. He looked at me with such a pleading expression on his face. He felt my mistrust. My gaze fell to the floor. I knew I'd cave in if I kept looking into those eyes. When I still didn't say anything he continued,

"I'm here to keep you safe. You..." he paused for a moment, searching for the right words. It seemed like realizing what I felt towards him right now was crushing him. "You don't need to be afraid of me."

"Shouldn't I be?" I blurted out. I hated the way he had just read me like an open book. "I know nothing about you. You want me to be open with you, when you're the one keeping secrets from me. Shane.. He said that you're not supposed to be here. He said that someone over Hershel's head ordered you here against his wishes and that you're mentally unstable." I dug my nails into my clenched fists.

"What you did to those guys.. Shane said that you've murdered people..."

"Michonne, I..." he tried to explain himself, but when he took a step towards me and I backed away he paused.

"I shouldn't trust you." I said with sorrow in my voice.

We slipped into silence and I instantly regretted what I just said when I saw how hurt he looked.

Suddenly he took several steps towards me, taking my hand and pulling me towards him slowly. He wrapped his arm around my waist, keeping his touch so light. While his other hand snaked his way from my neck up to my jaw, he pressed his forehead against mine. I didn't back away this time. I found my hands rested on his chest and I hesitantly reached up and brushed my fingertips against his neck. I closed my eyes and he left me waiting for his lips to connect with mine for a couple of seconds before he said

"But you do."

He took a deep breath to collect himself before pulling away a bit to look at my face and brushing my hair behind my ear.

"It's true, I've killed a lot of people for the government. Believe me when I tell you they deserved it. But you're not the first person that I've been sent to save. I didn't seriously injure those guys; they'll need some stitches but they'll be fine. And I get why you didn't want to tell me why you're so important to the government, but you don't have to feel like this with me. You should know by now that you're not the only one with a troubled past... I don't mean to be such a miserable fuck, but if it'll help me keep you safe then that's how it has to be."

Cold reality splashed over me when I recalled the terrible things I'd just said to the man who was only trying to help. His hands fell away from me and he turned to head to his room and that's when my brain pushed me into action. I reached out and grabbed his hand and he stopped, looking back at me.

"Wait," I said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to- I shouldn't have-"

"It's okay." He said softly. "I know. And I meant it when I said you don't need to be afraid of me. I would never hurt you, Michonne."

I knew that he wasn't just talking about my physical state.

* * *

Our argument had sparked new found energy in me, and at nearly 6 am we were sitting in my darkened living room with a bottle of scotch and the gas fireplace serving as our light source. We sat there passing the bottle back and forth as I told him everything about my condition and the challenges it had brought me in the past, as well as the hopes that it held for the future. He'd speculated that whoever was stalking me must have ties with higher-ups in the military because of all the going-ons over Hershel's head. He reasoned that Hershel must've wanted someone else living with me not because he didn't trust Rick, but because he would've had him watching from the outside, making sure that no one even came close to the apartment, and using his sharp mind to weed out the traitors in the military. But Hershel's hands were tied by people outranking him who were either too far from the situation to truly understand what was going on, or were the very conspirators hoping to see me dissappear.

"We should turn in," He reasoned, taking a swig from the bottle before corking it. The sky outside had lifted from its blackness to an ombre of dark blue, and we knew the sun was on its way. He grinned at me. "You can barely keep your eyes open." He was right. I was beyond exhausted and would have fallen asleep on the living room rug had he let me. He stood and before I could protest he scooped me into his arms and carried me to my room. Sliding into bed was heavenly and my half-opened eyes found his as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry for what I said earlier." I murmured. He smiled at this and I felt his fingers brush my cheek. Without thinking I touched my hand to his and closed my eyes.

"I don't blame you." He started carefully. "I know I can be intimidating. And the scars..."

My eyes snapped open at this and I squeezed his hand. "No." I replied.

"Who am I to judge someone for being different? Or for having suffered? Lots of soldiers have wounds. Enduring pain and having scars doesn't make you a monster. It makes you human."

His eyes widened at hearing this and he pulled his hand away. His gaze fell to the floor.

"Get some sleep." He quietly demanded and as he went to shut my door behind him he paused.

"Thank you, by the way." He murmured.

"For what?" He smiled sadly at me over his shoulder.

"...For not asking me how I got them."

He shut the door.

.

* * *

I awoke several hours later to sunlight pouring in my room; it's bringtness amplified by the sheet of crisp white covering everything outside. I slipped out of my dress and shimmied into some black leggings and slouchy grey sweater after I showered. Walking out of the living room met me with the surprising sight of Rick passed out on the couch, still clad in his pants and dress shirt from the night before. I couldn't help giggling at how uncomfortable he looked, and I gently brushed an errant of hair from across his face. Seeing him so relaxed and peaceful made it hard to believe what Shane claimed; that he was capable of so much destruction. My tranquil moment of slumbering adonis was cut short when his hand suddenly lashed out, grasping my wrist tightly and snitching it away from his face as his fierce eyes bore into me. As quickly as he grabbed me he let me go and put his hand to his chest, breathing out slowly.

"Jesus woman, don't sneak up on me like that."

"Sorry." I exhaled. "I didn't mean to startle you."

He rolled himself off the couch and stretched, yawning loudly and scratching his disheveled-looking head as he headed to the guest shower. I brewed us some much needed coffee and ordered some chicken parm sandwiches for us, and made myself comfortable on the sofa just as Rick emerged from his room. His hair was still wet from the shower he just took and he grinned when I handed him his coffee.

"So," He started as he settled next to me on the sofa, "I think we need a fresh start. No more secrets, its open communication from now on."

I nodded in agreement before responding, "Well what about you? What will you share?"

His eyes fell away from mine in contemplation, it was plain to see he was weighing his options. I'll share what I can, but it's not much. There are some things about me that I can't explain to you, even though I want to. I need you to understand that."

I could feel myself brightening from within at this newfound opportunity, and I aquiested enthusiastically.

The next few hours became a blur of coffee, sandwiches, and him answering any of my questions that he could. He told me about some of his past missions, people he protected, countries he visited. I was dazzled by his vivid descriptions; the humidity and bright technicolor foliage of the amazon rainforest, the incredible sea life he encountered while scuba diving near the Great Barrier reef, the head-scratching mysteries surrounding Easter Island and Stonehenge. I found myself dreaming in the daytime as he spoke of the sun setting over the rolling hills of Tuscany, the magical light show of the aurora borealis dancing through the midnight sky above the snow-capped mountains of Alaska, the way the Grand Canyon seemed to stretch on forever. It seemed to me that heaven existed on earth, and a sudden pang of regret struck me which he noticed.

"What is it?" He questioned.

I drew in a shakey breath to sooth my aching soul.

"I.. I'm just so angry at myself. I don't have to stay here all the time. I really can go out and live. I'm just so tired of being recognized. All I can think about is what would happen if someone were to approach me... I can't have any more of these incidents. I can't subject myself to the possibility that I could be swarmed by people. I want to meet new people, see new places, have adventures-"

"Put your shoes on." He commanded with a smirk.

"...What?"

"You heard me."

"Right now? We can't go out now, Rick. That guy is still on the loose. Plus theres snow on the ground and it's cold."

"Stop with the excuses, Michy. You're conquering your fear tonight. We're going into town."

"Are you insane? Couldn't we go somewhere quieter? With security? How about an art museum?" He pushed me towards the closet where I kept my boots and jacket.

"You know what they say, 'the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.'." He said pulling on his black jacket. I didn't hide my lack of amusement.

"I promised I wouldn't let anything happen to you and I meant it." He said shutting the door behind me.

"I'll be with you every step on the way."

* * *

That was chapter 8!

I'll try to upload chapter 9 in a couple of hours, but I might fall asleep lol so I'm not making any promises.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter! Byeee x


	9. Chapter 9

Here's chapter 9 for you!  
I'll read all my reviews tomorrow and respond to them in chapter 10!

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The Christmas Market in Atlanta was a yearly tradition in the city charming both the locals and the tourists. Long and winding pathways were flanked on either side by booths and everywhere you looked was a sight to behold. Every year local merchants from all over the city and state would gather here just before Thanksgiving to offer up their finest creations whether they be hand-sewn clothes, vintage jewelry, old-fashioned and wooden toys, french perfumes, baked goods or hand-blown glass ornaments. I was nervous climbing the steps out of the subway and emerging in the midst of the bustling crowds, but Rick's light touch at the small of my back was enough to coax me forward.

It only took a few minutes for me to become dazzled by the sight of festive red and green lights strung from the booths and into the trees, the sounds of the laughing kids chasing each other wildly with gooey sticky-bun fingers outstretched, and smells of hot chocolate and spiced apple pies floating in the air. Before I knew it, I was happily strolling along with Rick as we wound our way up and down the paths until we left most of the crowd behind us. It was a cold night but pleasant from the lack of wind-chill, and the market offered up its usual treasure; the people-watching. I giggled at a funny comment Rick murmured to me about some loud girls not far from us who'd had a bit too much eggnog, and while looking around us it hit me. I was out. I was living a normal life, and having fun like a normal person. I wasn't afraid. I wasn't even slightly anxious. Rick's gaze held mine for a moment, washing warmth over me, and I couldn't stop myself. I took his hand and intertwined my fingers with his.

"Thank you." I whispered. He gave me a soft squeeze.

"You're welcome."

.

* * *

We stayed in the market a bit longer, stopping at a couple booths so I could find something to bring to my Grandmother. She would be hosting Christmas as usual, and I wanted to bring her a little something as a thank you. I had been keeping my distance from her, in effort to keep her out of danger. When I found the perfect item Rick insisted on paying for it, saying how he would be crashing our holiday this year and didn't want to show up empty-handed. He handed me my Grandma's gift, a silver cat statue.

"Lets go." He grabbed my hand in his and motioned to follow as we left the stand, but I pulled him to a stop at the crystal clear sound of a child's voice ringing out over the surrounding noise.

"Look Mommy! Look how pretty!" A little boy of no more than four was pointing at the cat I was holding. "Mommy look it's a cat! It shines like a Christmas ornament!"

The boy's mother, clearly embarrassed by her son's outburst, danced her eyes back and forth between my smiling face and Rick's look of alarm. "Honey, it's not polite to point or stare at people." She softly admonished, crouching down to meet her son's eye level.

"But Mommy loot at it! Look at the colours!" He responded enthusiastically, to which Rick and I looked at each other clearly with the same question in mind. Colours? We looked down and sure enough, the glowing bulbs of red, green, blue and white that hung in the Christmas trees surrounding us were reflected bubbles of light in the silvery chrome of the figure.

"Okay, that's enough." She grasped her son's hand and stood, laughing nervously. "I apologize."

"It's okay!" I piped up with a smile. Unlacing my fingers from Rick's I took a step towards the little boy and crouched in front of him.

"My name's Michonne. You wanna take a look at the cat?" The boys face lit up. He grabbed the figure happily and yanked it up above his head to capture the glow of the Christmas lights once again. I exchanged warm smiles with his mother. The boy returned the cat to me a moment later and pulled his mother close to bashfully whisper in her ear,

"Isn't it beautiful?"

My heart squeezed in my chest. His mother nodded in agreement, beaming at her son and they wished us a Happy Holiday and went on their way. It was only then that I noticed Rick was still standing a few steps behind me, staring at the ground where the boy stood with unseeing eyes.

"Rick? You okay?" He blinked back into reality at the sound of my voice, and stepped towards me, pulling me to stand.

"I'm fine," He replied softly. "He just... he reminded me of someone." My eyes roamed his face for a moment, taking in the furrowed brow, the hard and sorrowful eyes, the full lips set in a grim line.

"Tell me?" I asked quietly. I could see his internal battle playing across his features, and he finally breathed out a sigh of defeat. We had agreed to be more open.

We made our way out of the market and hailed a cab from there.

"I was twenty the last time I'd encountered someone like that boy. She was four years old, and her name was Judith."

* * *

We were home in front of the lit fire place when Rick finished telling me the heart-wrenching story of Judith. He had stopped several times during the explanation on the cab ride over, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths to calm himself. I had placed my hand over his and assured him that he didn't have to tell me about this if he didn't want to. But he shook his head and insisted, saying that it had been years since he'd last mentioned her to anyone and that she didn't deserve that.

It was nine years ago, and Rick had been sent upstate by the military to guard a household, which consisted of a woman called Lori and her four year old, Judith. Two years prior, Lori's husband – Philip Blake - had shown signs of serious mental problems after serving for the military for a couple of years. He had tried to kill Lori and take his daughter with him. After disappearing for two years, there had been indications of him returning to the city to kidnap his daughter. Since Lori's husband had been a soldier for the military for years, Hershel placed them in Rick's charge. Months went by with no incidents, during which Rick and Judith had formed a deep bond. When the military felt that the threat against Blake had gone away, Rick was sent away. When Rick returned three days later to retrieve a bag he'd forgotten, he'd walked in on Judith and her father's lifeless bodies on the floor.

"He killed her and took his life afterward." Rick explained. The flames from the fire place faced in his hard eyes and he continued. "He had gone mad years earlier, convinced that death is the only escape from this hell. And I let it happen. I wasn't paying enough attention."

His gaze left the fire and refocused on my own.

"I got too close. I wasn't focused on the mission. She was just a little girl. She was growing up without a father and somehow.. being there for her fulfilled me. It should have been a red flag to me that the threats stopped as soon as I showed up."

I found myself at a loss for words, and I reached to cover his hand with mine but he pulled back, his gaze falling to the rug under us.

"I shouldn't be telling you this. You're not supposed to know anything about me." He said before recapturing my eyes with his own. "Judith got killed because I was distracted and let my guard down. I can't let that happen to you."

Worry shot through me; the idea of going back to living with a stranger was not something I was willing to entertain. I straightened up a bit and faced him.

"We agreed to be open, remember? You telling me about yourself isn't going to get me killed."

"We agreed to be open but there are some things about what I do that I just can't tell you and you have to accept that. Judith is a lesson for the both of us to not get so comfortable. I saw her as a daughter and spent too much time with her and not enough time focusing on Philip. I'm glad I could help you face a fear today but we can't keep having these heart-to-hearts that don't pertain to finding your stalker."

"I don't understand what you're getting at." I responded. He let out and exasperated sigh and ran a hand through his hair before locking his eyes on me.

"I can't risk becoming attached. I cared too much for Judith, and when she died it nearly killed me. I can't make the same mistake again, Michonne. I can't let you be more to me than a casual acquaintance."

He rose from his spot next to me and headed for the guest bedroom, but stopped briefly when my mind's filter stopped working and I blurted out,

"I could mean more to you?"

"No," He replied with a single shake of his head. "You can't."

.

* * *

I prepared for bed with a flurry of butterflies in my stomach and a million questions in my head. How could someone be so open one second and then completely shut down the next? How could he think that talking to me would mean letting his guard down? Was he insinuating that I could be important to him? Why did it even matter so much to me that we be more than strangers? He was here to protect me, that's all, and it pissed me off to hear him ordering me around like everyone else. I knew he was only doing his job but I had to admit there was a small part of me that secretly hoped that his bossiness was a product not only of the military's concern, but his concern. I wanted him to care for my safety not because of his mission, but because it would mean he felt something for me.

I stripped down to my lacy black undies and slid into bed, opting to sleep in my short silk robe; I hated wearing pyjamas to bed only to wake up to them twisted around me uncomfortably. I shut off the bedside lamp and pulled the blankets over me, thinking about everything that had happened over the past weeks and realizing that while I had gotten the daylights scared out of me, no one had actually tried to hurt me. This brought a small smile to my face because it meant that maybe Rick was just being his normal, overprotective self. I would find a way to make him see that we didn't need to be strangers in order to keep me safe. Ever since he arrived, I had always been safe. Whoever was leaving me voicemails and sending me fake bodies was afraid of Rick.

* * *

Thank you for reading!

Let me know what you thought x

Chapter 10 will be up tomorrow. _Shit's about to go down..._


	10. Chapter 10

**Nwfanmega: "Really enjoying how you set the scenes. I would see every bit of that hotel and the people at the party as we made our way through. Wonderfully done. Rick brought the funny with "a dress smaller than it's 'how to wash' tag." Didn't know he had it in him. Ha! [...]"**

\- thank you! hahah yess he just really likes to tease her lol

 **Nwfanmega: "[...] Then you drop Judith. Whatever tale you're weaving, I'm here for it! Do you hear me? Totally sucked all the way in. [...] Lori's dead right?"**

\- wow i'm glad you enjoyed that! I was wondering what people would think of this little piece of his backstory! And no, Lori is actually alive. Philip only killed Judith and himself. Lori doesn't really have any importance in my story though other than being Judith's mother. I don't think she's going to make an appearance in the story again.

 **jerkchickenz: "This is amazing so far and very refreshing."**

Thank you so much! Glad to hear you're enjoy it x

 **DramionEverlarkPeetatoRichonne: "Nawwwww this is a sad and cute chapter, I'm intrigued, please not never ever let this story end! I love it too much for it end, looking forward to the next chapters! "**

\- thank you! hahah unfortunately this story is gonna end someday. but I'll try my best to make it as long as I can lol! I hope you enjoy this chapter x

 **Dejede: "That hug reminded me of Creely & Bessie's first kiss on Damnation."**

\- never heard of it, but googled it and it seems interesting. I'll check it out sometime haha!

 **"courtgirl26: "[...] Shane's a POS because no way Hershel would send a dangerous man to live with Michonne. He cares about her too much and cares about Rick, too. I do want to know what that relationship is, though, with Rick and Hershel. [...]"**

\- you've made a good point! Hershel knows Michonne since she's a little girl and he's not the type of person who would put her in danger. And as for Rick, I'd claim Hershel is the character who knows him the best. You'll find out what their relationship is soon, so stay tuned! x

 **member00: "[...] Awesome chapter! Glad they're moving closer, takin steps, and they've both basically shown they have feelings but tacitly agreed they can't do anything about it. That won't last, but 'the journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.' :)"**

\- thank you for your lovely review! yess you put it perfectly!

Thank you to everyone who took the time to write a review!

Here's the next chapter.

* * *

The warm sand against my back was a welcome contrast to the cold breeze slipping over my skin. The sun blazed high above me, and I stretched my arms to rest over my head as I gazed up at the clear, blue sky. My paradise only became better as Rick crawled over me, smirking in satisfaction as his blue eyes roamed my body. He eyed me like I was a steak dinner and I loved every second of it.

"Rick, how-"

"Shhh..." He hushed me quietly, putting a single digit to my lips as he leaned down and kissed me just below down my neck and over my chest to part the soft fabric of my shirt and lay a kiss on my sternum. Warmth bloomed through me. I let out a sigh of happiness, and closed my eyes as his strong hands continued to explore. I went to rake my fingers through his curles, but found I couldn't move my exhausted arms from their position over my head. So I laid back, enjoying the hot sand against my flesh and the cold breeze in my hair. He growled as he gripped my things and pushed my long legs apart to settle himself between. He wasted no time letting me know his intentions as he grabbed my hips and pulled me against him so I could feel his need through the fabric. He grinned at me, and I watched his head dip down to start nipping at my skin, working his way up. His grinding against me quickened my breathing, and his teeth gently grazed over my skin, nipping and sucking. Desire raged through me as he worked his way over my shoulders, his careful and steady movements becoming hurried as his resolve began to slip. His thrusts grew stronger, his fingers dug into my hip harshly, and when his lips found the swell of my breast, he bit down.

I cried out in pain and his hand swiftly clapped over my mouth and we were nose to nose as he glared at me.

"Shut up." He growled. My brows furrowed in confusion. He kissed me roughly, his tongue forcing it's way past my lips. He tasted like tequila.

Rick hated tequila.

My eyes napped open and my paradise was gone. I was in my room, with my hands tied to my headboard, and someone was sitting between my legs, pushing my silk robe open to run their hands down my nakedness towards my underwear.

I screamed.

Fire exploded from my cheekbone when he hit me.

"Shut up, bitch!" He roared.

Fear sliced through me as he gripped a fistful of my hair, forcing my head to the side as he dragged his textured tongue over the skin he had back-handed. I couldn't make out his features in the darkness. Rick's brilliant eyes always cut through the blackness, but I couldn't see the intruder's. He reeked of stale cigarettes and when he kissed me his breath was rank with alcohol that Rick never drank. I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a choked sob as his fingers moved to slip under my lacey panties. But he never made it there.

My bedroom door slammed open and I felt the weight of my attacker swiftly dragged off me and out the door, into the living room. The distinctive rathet of a gun's hammer pulling back sounded through the apartment, and a single shot blasted out. Above the man's agonized screaming came Rick's voice, clear and deadly.

"Stay there and keep your mouth shut, or I'll shoot the other knee."

Humiliation rolled over me as I sat up and curled myself into a ball. I heard footsteps approach my room. Rick said nothing as he pulled my robe over my exposed body, and brandished a pocket knife to cut me loose. Lowering my arms was almost painful from being bound uncomfortably above me for so long. He gently brushed my jaw with his hand to make me look at him, and I was met with his expression of grave seriousness, and his eyes roamed my body quickly looking for any obvious injuries before settling back on my face. Warm fingers carefully examined the skin on my cheek, that was slowly beginning to bruise. Despite his usual feather-light touch, pain radiated across my face from the sore skin and I sucked in a breath.

Rick straightened up and scooped me into his arms, carrying me past my attacker in the living room and into the guest room where he settled me into his bed and pulled his fur blanket over me.

"Backup's on it's way. I pushed the panic button on my phone when I heard yelling. Until they get here I need to deal with this guy. Will you be okay for a couple of minutes?"

His steady gaze on me did little to calm my nerves, and my speeding heartrate hadn't slowed, but I nodded my head sollumly. He released the empty cartridge from his gun and slid a new magazine intro it as he headed back into the living room with handcuffs and duct tape to deal with the man who was bleeding all over my hard-wood floors. I pulled myself to sit up and watched Rick from the warmth of the sheets as he dragged over a chair from the kitchen table and forced the intruder into it. After handcuffing him and taping his ankled to the chair legs, Rick moved to the front of the door when Hershel's voice bellowed from the other side of it.

I didn't want Hershel or anyone else from the military to see me. It was embarrassing enough that they would know what happened tonight but they didn't have to see me like this, so I slipped out of bed and moved into the bathroom. The mirror showed me a face far more tragic than what I had imagined. My eyes were glossy from fought-back tears, my hair was dishevelled and the bruise on my cheeck seemed to get worse by the minute. Purple shadows full under my tired eyes and I opened my robe to examine the rest of me. My hip showed evidence of where his fingers gripped me roughly, and my hand flew to my mouth as a wave of nausea swept over me. Along the top of my breast were the distinctive markings of teeth. A vicious-looking bite that nearly drew blood, and left red and purple gouges in my dark brown skin.

I only vaguely heard the sound of my name coming from the bedroom. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the mess in the mirror. My boiling cup of anger and humiliation had finally run over, and tears spilled down my bruised face. When Rick came into my view his face was etched with concern, his eyes wide and wary, clearly trying to find the right words but coming up empty. Without saying anything I knew he was blaming himself for this. I didn't have it in me to stay strong any longer. I didn't have the strength left to push away my emotions any more. The dam broke, and Rick pulled me into his arms, and I sobbed.

* * *

Let me know what you thought!

Chapter 11 is on it's way.


	11. Chapter 11

Here's chapter 11 for you!

I'll answer to some reviews in the next chapter because I couldn't find the time now and didn't wanna wait with posting this chapter till tomorrow!

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

The rest of the night was spent at base and bled into dawn. Hershel and his team had taken the intruder, a man I had learned was actually an active duty member of the military called Jared. Hershel knew the importance of keeping an enemy close, and the attacker was now being kept somewhere at base, soon to be interrogated.

I had been sent along with my doctors to the lab so they could draw blood and run various tests, and my hands never seemed to stop their shaking. Rick refused to leave my side. He chose some colourful phrases for the doctor that dared to suggest he should wait outside the lab while they took a blood sample. His anger simmered under a collected exterior, but was quickly rising to boil when I was dismissed from the lab and we were shown back to Hershel's office.

The glass walls of Hershel's office where newly fogged at the click of a remote, shielding him from any onlookers with the use of a technology allowing large panes of glass to alternate between transparent and opaque. He called Rick to come in alone.

"She's not staying out here."

"Michonne will be fine, she's with the military." Hershel reminded him.

"She was attacked by a soldier of the military." Rick retorted.

"While one of my most qualified men was supposed to be keeping her safe. Leave her with Maggie and get in here now."

Rick's eyes darkened and he looked back at me for a moment, silently asking if I'd be alright. I gave him a slight nod and settled myself into a chair outside Hershel's office as Rick entered and closed the glass door behind him. Several minutes ticked by, during which Maggie was kind enough to get me a cup of tea and sit with me. Voices from inside the office began to rise, slowly becoming louder as one fought to overcome the other.

The details of their words were muffled, but inflection in their voices made the emotion unmistakeable. Hershel's distinction powered through the commotion with the unmistakeable authority of someone giving orders, and when it seemed the dust had settled, a new rage shattered through the room.

"That's bullshit and you know it! You can't expect me to just sit by!" My heart leapt into my throat and I exchanged a look of alarm with Maggie. I had never heard Rick so angry, and from the look on her face I guessed she hadn't either.

"Not a fucking chance!" Rick shouted again. Hershel's door was yanked open and Rick stomped out, seething and clenching his fists at his side. I watched nervously as he steeled himself, and called back to Hershel who was now emerging from behind the glass walls. "I'll take care of everything. I've got control, we'll be fine."

"Do you, Rick?" Hershel challenged. His hardened eyes seemed to bore into Rick's back. "You need to keep it together. We can't afford to get sloppy. You can't lose focus ever. I'll send in a replacement if that's what it takes." Rick's eyes went wide and he turned to face Hershel as he sighed.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe someone else should be protecting Michonne."

"No!" I yelped. Their heads snapped to my direction. "Please, what happened wasn't Rick's fault. The only reason I'm okay is because Rick was there. I... I don't want to start all over again, living with a new stranger. Please don't make me."

Hershel's eyes danced back and forth between Rick and myself, and my skin began to crawl under his assessing gaze. It was easy to see why this man made people nervous.

"Michonne, we have to wonder if this arrangement may not be working. We sent Rick to protect you and find who's been threatening you, and it took someone attacking you for us to actually get any solid lead. It's not like us to take so long to bring down an enemy." He said, casting his reprimanding glare at Rick. "We need to wrap this up. I better not hear another incident like this, Rick. You were sent to do a job and tonight you've done it poorly. But you may be able to redeem yourself by interrogating Jared for me. He probably won't give information easily."

Rick's icy glare intensified as he flexed his fingers threateningly.

"He'll answer to me."

* * *

It was mid day when we finally returned to my apartment. Rick had been as quiet as he was when we first met, clearly trenched in thought. My heart sank when we walked in and he immediately retired to the guest room without a word and shut the door. I was reading on the floor in front of the fire when he emerged hours later. His eyes cut through the darkness and the fire's soft illumination revealed the tiredness etched into him. He crossed the room to the kitchen and pulled an ice pack from the freezer, handing it to me as he sat next to me on the plush rug.

"That bruise is swelling up." He said as I held the ice to my face. "We're lucky he didn't break a bone."

"Are you mad at me?" I interrupted. He blinked in surprise at my question.

"What gives you the idea?"

"You're doing it again. You're being grouchy and secretive. You do that when you're angry."

"I'm angry at myself." He said. "Look at you. You're covered in bruises because of me. Every night I'm supposed to check the locks on the door and windows. But last night I forgot. That son of a bitch was watching us. He was waiting for me to slip up because he knew I would."

"It's my fault too. I could have checked the fire escape window in my room but I didn't. It's just as much my fault and now Hershel is angry with both of us."

"No, he's pissed at me."

"I know you probably want out of here." I said, my voice tightening with emotion. "Hershel gave you the opportunity to leave and let someone replace you, and I messed it up. I shouldn't have been so selfish. Why should you waste your life being stuck here with me? I understand if you want to go."

He took me by the shoulders and forced me to look at him.

"I'm angry at this son of a bitch for reasons that go far beyond what he did to you. Reasons that I can't explain to you. I beat him bloody earlier and I'm still not satisfied. I'm furious at Hershel for allowing me to stay here. I'm angry because I'm afraid of what will happen."

"I don't understand." His grip on me tightened.

"I always know what to do. Exactly how to handle any situation I face. But now I'm torn between leaving and staying. Rationality says that I should go, because I've gotten sloppy from too much time spent out of the field. I'm becoming too relaxed here, and I'm making mistakes and taking unnecessary risks that could cost you your life. That isn't fair to you."

He relaxed his grip on me. "But now there's something else here. I thought it was the same feeling I had when guarding Judith, and that was unnerving enough, but this is different."

I stared back at him and tried to calm my racing heart as he locked his eyes on mine.

"I care about you, Michonne. I care about you more than I should and that's really dangerous, for you physically and for me psychologically. I can't make the same mistakes I did with Judith. I got comfortable, I got emotional, and then I left and she was killed."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I'm not going anywhere. I'm worried if I do you'll wind up dead, so you're stuck with me until I catch this guy and kill him. Hershel can send whoever the hell he wants here to guard you. I'm not leaving. But I need you to stop."

"Stop what?" I asked.

"Stop... being you."

"Stop being me? Is this you trying to make me feel better?" He raked his hand through his hair and let out a growl.

"I need you to stop... trying to get close to me. Stop caring about me. Stop doing things that make me care about you."

"Rick, you said I'm stuck with you, yet you're telling me to go away? Last night was both our faults, but I know you won't let it happen again. Everything is fine."

"Stop acting like everything is fine." He shot back. "You were nearly raped." I blanched at his frankness, and his shoulders sagged seemingly from exhaustion. I set down the ice pack and twisted the hem of my slouchy sweater nervously, my hands resting in my lap as I looked away from him. I was about to collect my book and head to bed when the deep rasp of his voice stopped me.

"You don't know what it did to me." His face was raw with anger, fear, anxiety, I couldn't decide and I watched him speculatively as he gazed into the flames. "I heard you scream, and it made me remember things I wish I could forget. Then seeing him crawling over you, with that sick smirk of his-" His sentence choked off and he grimaced before continuing. "I can't believe how much shit you put up with. The kind of life you're forcing yourself to have to save a world of people that don't even know you exist. I mean, fuck, Jared works on the team in charge of keeping some of the military's top assignments a secret, including you." His expression only became more pained, and for a moment it felt as if I was watching the walls of this carefully guarded fortress start to crumble from the onslaught. "He was supposed to be on our side. Why would he do this now? Why would anyone torment you like this?"

His raw, blue eyes swerved over to hold my gaze. "Michonne, are you okay?"

I found myself in the all-too-familiar state of being unable to breathe, and in that moment I wasn't sure if I wanted to scream, cry or kiss him. It had been years since anyone had looked at me with so much sincerity and asked how I was. I could tell his question was completely unrelated to the security of the mission, or his concern for keeping his job. He took my hand in his and ran his thumb over my knuckles. He was so worried about me. Tears sprang in my eyes and I couldn't stop my shaking lip.

"No." I whispered. I let out a sob and the tears ran free. "I'm exhausted. I'm so tired of living like this. I'm so sick of smiling all the time and acting like everything's okay. I'm lonely." I looked back at him through the swimming blurriness. "I always feel alone. I have friendly acquaintances, but no one I can really talk to. Everyone assumes that I'm happy doing this but I'm not happy anymore. I'm not satisfied being caged here anymore. I don't feel safe the way I once did." His thumb brushed over my knuckles again and I drew in a shuddering breath.

"I haven't been okay for a long time. Longer than you've been living here. I have the most agonizing wanderlust. I get lost in the stories and poems that take me to the most vivid faraway places. Then one day it's all over and I look up from the last page of the book and I want to cry because I'm still stuck here." Rick's face was beyond crestfallen during my monologue. His ashen expression regarded me with untold amounts of concern, and then something flickered in his gaze. As if I could see the deliberation between options happening in his mind.

"How can I help?" He asked. I sat back and leaned my head against the couch with a sigh.

"I don't think there's much you can do at this point. Unless you can help me feel something else right now. My head is pounding; I really just want to feel anything besides what I've been feeling tonight." My mind had the intentions of him coming up with one of his usual quips to make me laugh or roll my eyes, or for him to launch into a story of one of his past missions to distract me. I was not expecting his worried, fearful eyes to close and then open a moment later with newfound determination set it. He stood and pulled me up with him, tugging me behind him as I followed into the guest suite and then the large guest bathroom.

"You're shaking." He regarded, staring down at me.

"I'm cold. Or it could be adrenaline. I've never told any of that to anyone before, it's kind of overwhelming." He reached into the stall and turned on the shower, and plumes of the steam began to fill the room.

"Get in."

"I'm not getting naked!"

"I didn't say that, I said get in." I eyed him suspiciously. He kicked off his boots and tested the temperature of the water falling from the ceiling-mounted head like rain showers. He stepped into the stall, jeans and shirt still on, and offered me a hand.

"Now come on." He insisted. I stood outside the stall regarding him with apprehension.

"You wanted to feel something else." I found myself blinking back at him in amazement and my hand fell into his as he pulled me into the stall and under the shower with him. All of a sudden I had to laugh at how ridiculous this was. The warmth cascading over me seemed to melt the shaky stiffness from my shoulders. Rick pulled me to him, laughing along with me. My head fell on his chest, and our laughing grew quiet as the events of the last 24 hours caught up with me. Before I knew it I was crying again. He must have felt my body shaking with quiet sobs because he pulled back and looked at me.

"You gotta stop with the tears." He said, trying to lighten the mood and wiping my tears with his thumb. "It guts me to watch you cry." I didn't know where the braveness of my next move came from, the emotion, the adrenaline, who knows. But I closed the little the distance that was left between us and craned my neck up at him. His hand had found their place, fingers splayed across my back and his eyes danced back and forth between mine.

"Make me." I whispered bravely. "Make me stop crying."

Rick let out a nervous laugh and looked down. Warm water rained over us, soaking our hair and clothes to cling to our skin; a single trail of warmth dripping off the tip of his nose and landing on my cheek. His method was indeed effective, for I found myself feeling something entirely different. Something new. He loomed over me, all broad shoulders and domineering intensity in his gaze. My hands rested limply on his chest, feeling his lean muscles through his drenched t-shirt, and his hand moved to my nape craning my head for him to leer over me.

"How are you feeling now?" He murmured. His warm breath on my skin and his mouth so close to mine were the only things I could notice as my environment fell away from me. The hot water seemingly evaporated, leaving us surrounded by clouds of steam.

"Like I'm in a dream. The kind that you can't remember when you wake up. I feel... safe here." I said, "What about you?"

His fiery gaze widened a fraction before his brow furrowed and he closed his eyes, pulling me closer to rest his forehead against my own.

"Terrified. I've seen a lot of frightening things, but I've never been more scared than I am right now.

"Why?" His eyes opened fractionally to find mine under hooded lids.

"Because I don't know what will happen after tonight. You shouldn't feel so powerless. You scare me more than anyone I've ever faced."

"I scare you? What could possibly happen that you would be afraid of?" His fingers laced through my hair and he let out a sight of defeat.

"This." And he brushed his lips against mine.


	12. Chapter 12

Hey! Can't believe I actually managed to post the next chapter today, but here it is lol.

 **amberjoy38: "don't leave us hanging like that every chapter gets better and better!"**

\- hahah thank you! I'll try my best to keep pushing through with the daily updates! x

 **Chellepo1977: "The honesty in this chapter between them is so good! I love how they opened up to each other and at the end I could see him giving up the fight against his feelings for Michonne. Such a great scene at the end! Love this update and thank you!"**

\- omg thank you so much! this means a lot!

 **member00: "[...] "While one of my most qualified men was supposed to be keeping her safe." Shots fired! [...]"**

\- lol Hershel is a savage!

 **member00: "Woohooooo kisssss! That was steaming more than the shower! Nice idea and set up!"**

 **Tigerwalk: "Ahhhhhh love it! Sexiest fully clothed shower ever :)"**

 **trininads: "*SCREAMS* haahhahahaha I KNEW IT, I KNEW IT! its about time. gosh angry/passionate rick is sooo sexy."**

 **DramionEverlarkPeetatoRichonne: "Yayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy omg omg omg, they finally kissed! Such Richonne feels hon, such Richonne feels for this one! "**

\- haha thank you all! I knew everyone was desperate to have them finally kiss lol!

 **Richonne4Life: "I just adore how Michonne is finding her voice in this story. She is truly transforming from someone who was just alive to someone who is finally starting to live! Rick thinks it's as simple as Michonne not being herself for him to stop feeling for her, but he would have to stop being himself too. Impossible. That shower scene was so incredibly touching, and it led to the perfect first kiss for them."**

\- wow thank you! reviews like these really show me that the work that I put into this story is worth it!

 **courtgirl26:" Yes, yes, yes! I feel bad for both of them because they're both lonely and captives of their lives, but they're the key to unlock each other's cages.[...] "**

\- that sounds so beautiful and fitting! Thank you! x

 **Trinrichonnetrash: "I am currently having trouble breathing. What a freakin' ending. [...]"**

\- your entire review made me smile so damn hard! I love it! Thank you so much for that review haha!

Thank you so much to everyone who takes the time to leave a review! They make my day!

Hope you all enjoy chapter 12!

* * *

His soft lips slipped over my own in slow, feather-light strokes of skin on skin, sending my mind far away from coherent thought; my only tie to the physical world being his mouth moving over me as his lips steadily gained strength, the sensation of his tongue slipping into me and caressing my own like warm velvet. My fingers curled into the wet fabric of his shirt on their own accord, every soft lap of his tongue draining me of the energy to stand, and he moved his hand up to my back supporting me as he pressed his body into mine, his kisses diving further. My arms slipped around his neck, encouraging him to angle for deeper access as strong hands pressed me against his hard body. A tightening in my lower belly crept within me, a feeling not unknown to me, but an intensity unlike anything I'd ever experienced. I couldn't suppress my soft moan, and unfortunately it was enough to suppress the moment because Rick suddenly pushed back from me.

"Shit.. I..." He panted, "Fuck- I shouldn't have... Michonne, I'm sorry-" My befuddled brain couldn't catch up with his hysteria. He backed away to the other side of the shower stall, heaving with hands in his wet hair, eyes wild and sculpted mouth slightly swollen. He was mesmerizing. Before I knew it he was gone, shucking his sodden shirt to the bathroom floor as he headed to the guest room. I was left immobilized, panting, and suddenly very pissed off. Gathering my wits, I turned off the shower and squeezed the excess water from my hair and slouchy sweater before storming after him. I walked into the bedroom just as those grey sweats of his fell into place, dangerously low on his hips. He didn't turn to face me, but I knew better than to assume he didn't hear me coming to stand in the doorway.

My mouth instantly watered and my airway seized up as I took in the sculpture of his naked back. It was amazing that the first time I saw his exposed skin I was so shaken by the scars; seeing him up close made me look past the imperfections entirely. He rummaged through drawers and I wasted no time in appreciating the way a singular bead of water slid over the ripping contours of his shoulders, gliding down his spine to rest at the small of his back. His damp hair clung to his skin as it began to dry, and I had to remind myself that just because he was a sight to behold, didn't give him a license to play with my emotions. I opened my mouth to address him when he whipped around,

"This shouldn't have happened." He said. "I shouldn't have been in there with you, I'm a mess. I'm all over the fucking place. I shouldn't have done that." He emptied his bottle and set it on the concrete slab at the base of the fireplace.

"I could've said no." I responded. "Rick, you don't need to-"

"I'm packing up and leaving. I'll call for someone else to come." I was certain my insides had turned to ice.

"But you said you wouldn't leave! You said you were afraid something would happen if you did. You said you wouldn't leave, Rick!" I panicked.

"I've said and done a lot of things during my time here that I shouldn't have! You aren't supposed to know anything about me. We're supposed to be nothing more than professional acquaintances." He said. "I was sent here to do a job and so far I've broken just about every rule since I've been here. If Hershel ever found out he would crucify me!"

"Is this all I am to you? A job?" I asked. His eyes blazed.

"Don't you get it? You've become far too important to me, and that's why I have to leave!"

"Rick, be reasonable." I said. "We can forget the whole thing. We'll play by the rules from now on if you want. Just please don't go." I could see him quickly losing his patience.

"Michonne! I should have left weeks ago! I should've packed my shit and ran the second I realized this was different!"

Fury burned inside my chest and it took everything in me to force down the lump in my throat. He could yell all he wanted, I wasn't going down without a fight. He told me before that he was staying, there was no way in hell I'd let him break his promise.

We glared at each other, chests heaving from hollering at one another. Our back-and-forth brought us exponentially closer, until we were nose-to-nose. Our height-difference forced me to tilt my chin upward so I could glare daggers at him. I couldn't figure out if the rising temperature in the room came from crackling fire, or the tension in the air, or the way his furious eyes bore in to me with such strength. My eyes danced back and forth between each of his. I was no match for those eyes, they were my complete undoing and I hated it. I hated finally admitting to myself that I was hopelessly attracted to this irritating, aggravating, absolutely beautiful man.

"Rick, please don't leave me. I need you."

Suddenly his expression changed. His eyes softened and his mouth parted as he sadly sighed in defeat. His thumb softly stroked my cheek and any brain activity I'd previously possessed had been reduced to white noise.

"Staying here terrifies me. But keeping my distance from you would rip me apart."

The mood shifted. I could taste his hot breath, a result of us breathing the same air, and I dragged my eyes away from his strong mouth to meet his gaze above me once again. His eyes were different. That intensity was back. The overwhelming force of his gaze that permeated my flesh to seize every part of me. His brow furrowed, and he let out an exasperated growl that nearly sent me into a gasping fit when his warm breath hit my skin. Rick Grimes may have still been an enigma to me in many ways, but when I looked in his eyes the message was unmistakeable. He wanted me.

"What're you waiting for?" I whispered bravely.

"I can't start anything with you." He replied darkly, clearly fighting some internal battle. My expression must've shown my confusion because he gulped and elaborated quietly.

"Soldiers are forbidden from becoming involved with the people they're protecting. It's bad enough that I've become so attached to you. I don't want to have to lie to Hershel when he asks me if I started this."

He gave me a desperate look that I had never seen from him before. A few seconds went by, in which the kitchen timer in my mind made its resounding ping of realization. Clearly he had no intention of following rules, but at least Rick wouldn't have to lie to a superior officer if they came asking questions and make his track record that much worse...

"It's not worth it." I swallowed, trying to convince myself to be responsible, to give him a break and let him leave. "Don't risk your career because of me."

Rick squashed my prudish reasoning when he growled out the most heart-stopping thing I'd ever heard a man say.

"Don't make me beg, woman."

My last thread of restraint had snapped.

I launched myself at him, kissing him forcefully, and that was all he needed. I found myself on his bed, with his solid body over mine, his strong hands all over me gripping the flash under my wet shirt while his mouth moved deeper into mine so that his tongue could perform magic. As intoxicating as he always smelled, his taste did far more to cloud my mind. I couldn't think, and I couldn't breathe. Fireworks went off in my mind and warmth bloomed in my chest. Suddenly he stopped and pulled back to look at me.

"You're not breathing, why?" He asked sternly. I had been holding my breath. I couldn't help that he had that effect on me.

"It's hard to breathe around you."

He gifted me with one of the sweetest smiles I've seen on him and leaned down to whisper hotly in my ear.

"Breathe, Michonne." I felt a warm, wet kiss just below my ear and I let out a sigh of bliss. His hand snaked down my body to rest his palm between my legs as the kisses on my neck turned into nips on my collarbone. When he forcefully bit down on my shoulder, his strong hand pressed against me hard and I sucked in a gasp of air. His lips found mine again in hot, full contact; my hands tangled in his hair and clung to his broad shoulders. When he parted my legs and ground his hips into me, I moaned loudly and found myself panting. Rick Grimes would spend the rest of the night forcing me to breathe.

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Chapter 13will _probably_ be up tomorrow!

Let me know what you thought. Also, if you enjoy my story so far then please make sure to check out my tumblr!

The link is on my profile.


	13. Chapter 13

Here's chapter 13!

I didn't have much time to answer reviews today, I'll respond to all of them in chapter 14!

Hope you enjoy! x

* * *

My eyes fluttered open to bright sunlight flooding my bedroom, reflected brilliantly off the snow outside. Dragging myself into consciousness, I looked down and grinned sublimely at the feel of the sheets against my naked body as the events of the previous night came surging back. He was so powerful and careful, wild while in control, slowly savoring the decadance of entering before surrendering us both to the clutches of primal nature. Warmth spread through me as I recalled the touches, the whispers, the sighs, and how they steadily wound the coils in my lower belly; tightening exponentially with his gradual loss of control before snapping spectacularly as we gave in to each other. Whatever lines he felt he'd crossed before were peanuts compared to the things he'd done to me that night.

The bed was empty next to me, but the aroma of freshly brewed coffee carried from the kitchen and I rose to pull on my silk robe, gathering myself as I slid out into the living room, ready to face 'the morning after'. Maggie was on my couch with a cup of coffee, eyes fixated on the crown roast being made on tv. She turned her attention to me and gave me a usual calm smile.

"Hey, good morning! Did you sleep well?"

I froze. Did she know? Was she facetious or genuine? How did she even get here?

"Um, yea. I did." It wasn't a lie. A mind-blowing night like that had left me dead to the world. "Have you seen Rick?"

"Only briefly last night as he was leaving." My stomach dropped, and I quickly crossed the room to the guest suite. Everything was gone. My sheets that were previously folded in the closet were back on the bed. His small arsenal was missing, every sign of his presence in my home had completely vanished. The sight knocked the wind out of me. Everything was pristine, just as it was before his arrival. I opened the drawers to find Maggie's simple collection of belongings.

"Didn't he mention he was leaving?" she asked from the doorway.

I couldn't turn to face her for fear that she would read me like a book. I quickly blinked back moisture and steadied my breathing. He did tell me he was leaving. I just thought... after last night... I shook my thoughts away and turned to her.

"Oh, yeah he did. I just forgot." I said with a fake smile on my face. "Please make yourself at home. I'm gonna hop in the shower." She returned to her spot on the sofa as I moved to my room and shut the door behind me. My throat was unbearably tight, straining from the weight of unreleased misery. Staggering toward the bathroom, I paused when my bare foot came in contact with plush softness and I looked down to find the only evidence of Rick's existence. The fur blanket.

That awful blanket that served as the warm foundation for the beginning of our intoxicating night. That stupid blanket that he dragged behind him when he playfully threw me over his shoulder before striding into my bedroom with his arrogant smirk, and me giggling with mirth the whole way. That absurd fur blanket that he curled around my shivering form when I came down from the stars. That damn blanket that he'd ripped off me an hour later and tossed to the floor, signaling the start of round two. That fucking blanket.

That fucking asshole.

I let out a fierce growl, grabbed the damned thing hand heaved it across the room. Not that it got very far, being so heavy. I huffed angrily and made my way to the shower, deciding that if I was going to cry it would be somewhere that I wouldn't be able to tell if it was water or tears falling down my skin.

* * *

Days blurred together as I went about my normal monthly routine. The only difference was the newly-acquired crippling anxiety I felt walking into military base with Maggie. I was due for blood tests again, but this time the doctors wanted to test a virus to observe how my body would clear it. My mind was pre-occupied with the fear of possibly seeing Rick somewhere and completely losing it. But I knew Rick would never be dumb enough to let that happen. After getting myself changed into the hospital gown and situated in a bed in the ICU, Maggie was about to leave me so the doctors could begin in the tests when she hesitated.

"Are you okay? You don't look so good..." She inquired. I was nervous. Tests never really bothered me but I found myself wishing Rick were there with me. Or that he at least cared enough to be concerned about me. Angry tears threatened to fall, but I blinked them back and smiled weakly.

"I'm fine." Nothing got past Maggie.

"Michonne, is there something I should know? Anything you need to get off your chest? You've been so different ever since I arrived." My attention focused on my lap.

"I'm alright, really." I insisted. She eyed me speculatively before leaving for the waiting room as the doctors came in.

I was laying on my couch that night with a book in my lap waiting for the aching in my muscles to ease. The test had been successful, my blood had cleared the virus in a matter of hours. I was now waiting for the last of the side effects to wane when Maggie set down her iPad and lowered the tv volume.

"Did something happen? Between you and Rick, I mean." I sat up, fidgeting nervously.

"Why?"

"I know you two were friendly, there's nothing wrong with that if that's why you're nervous." She started. "but something's been off with him. You didn't see his face that night as he was leaving. He looked... guilty. Kind of devastated. And you've been the personification of melancholy. Did you guys have a big fight or something before he left?"

My mind rocket back to his breath on my skin. His hand caressing, stroking, gripping me. My fingers tangled in his hair. His mouth, hot, wet, and unrelenting. My name growled out in primal fashion. Nope. No fighting then.

"Uh yea," I lied. "We fought. I think we were both going stir crazy from sitting here for so long. We drove each other nuts, and I said some rotten things." I did my best to feign guilty.

"Well, whatever happened, he didn't seem happy about leaving. He wanted me to tell you he's sorry and hopes you'll forgive him. Rick may be stubborn and cranky, but he's not a bad person."

It took every ounce of me to act normal at that moment. How could he expect me to forgive him for jerking me around like that? After he spend weeks switching back and forth between pulling me closer and pushing me away, showing me he cared and telling me he couldn't, kissing me in the shower then ready to pack his bags, loving me so passionately then disappearing the next morning. Rage burned in my chest. When I collapsed into bed a few hours later, my nose caught the familiar scent of crisp, clean earthiness lingering on the fur blanket that was spread over my sheets. My self-abusing soul just couldn't stop the tears.

* * *

Time passed and Christmas had come and gone before I knew it. I was able to venture out to spend Christmas Day with my Grandmother – whom I'd decided to keep in the dark about the stalker business- and it was a welcome break from the confines of my apartment. Gifting her the small cat figure was a fresh turn of the blade wedged in my heart when I remembered that she would never meet the man who had chosen it.

Security at home had relaxed considerably since Rick's departure. Investigations had spent weeks running the voice recording Rick made of the disturbing phone call through their database of convicted felons searching for a match, only to come up empty. Then Glenn decided to go against the grain of proper protocol and ran the file against the database of active duty members and still didn't come up with a match.

Jared sang like a bird. He confessed to the eyeball, the fake body, the notes, the list of names sent to Hershel, everything but the phone calls. Credit for those went to someone who forced Jared to do all of this. He said it was a man he knew nothing about, he never met, and was simply taking orders from via a series of typed letters which he later burned. So while my stalker was taken care of, the Military was still scrambling to figure out who was pulling the strings. Hershel and Daryl were hitting the roadblocks at every turn, finding passwords denied by the mainframe and any request for help put on hold in favor of 'more pressing matters'. When Maggie received order to pack up and return to Base, both she and Hershel argued with higher authority till blue-in-the-face, to no avail, insisting that this wasn't over. But my stalker had been captured and that served as a good enough reason for Hershel's boss – the Secretary of Defence, to send Maggie back to her place at military base, attached at Hershel's hip. He saw no reason to keep Maggie away from her duties while the military focused on finding the people who had been pulling Jared's strings, since they had apprehended their enforcer. It was New Year's Eve, and she was set to leave the next morning.

Maggie and I opted for a bottle of wine and some cheese at home instead of going into town.

"He's alright, in case you were wondering." She said, her sharp green eyes gleamed at me knowingly over the rim of her wine glass. "You haven't asked about him in weeks. It seems you've been just careful not to ask about him." I swallowed my mouthful of fermented grape juice forcefully and feigned disinterested.

"I'm indifferent. He was a house guest and a friendly acquaintance. I'm glad to hear he's well, but I don't spend every waking hour wondering about him." Her knowing gaze held on me and her eyebrow shifting, raising slowly as her chin shifted toward her chest. Damn it.

"You're angry at him for leaving. You're hurting." I blinked back at her in utter stupor.

"You love Rick. I can tell." She completely immobilized me. "I can see how it could happen easily, what with his charm and that pretty face. He's always prioritized the happiness of others above his own. Not to mention that he's entirely self-loathing. It's enough to inspire any girl to want to be his savior." She turned to me and her eyes became grave. "Don't try to be that girl, Michonne. You have no idea what you're up against. Loving a military assassin is a hard enough life without the problems Rick is dealing with. I know about what Shane said to you at the fund raiser. It's true, Hershel didn't want Rick here to begin with. He wanted him watching on the outside, but he never wanted the two of you to cross paths. You're too much alike. We knew he would identify with you better than anyone."

"Isn't that all the more reason why we should be together?" I pressed. Her expression saddened.

"If it were anyone else, yes. But not Rick. He's been fighting demons you couldn't comprehend. He's been through things your imagination couldn't conjure if you tried. We all love Rick, we're astounded by what he's made of himself. He's like a brother to me and he's a good person who deserves all the happiness in the world, but he's not ready for something like this and neither are you." My heart was crumbling to my chest.

"It kills me saying it Michonne, because we care you and Rick so much. But you two were never supposed to meet. Rick can't get close to anyone because it's far too dangerous. He did the right thing by leaving, you need to trust me and let him go."

* * *

I was awoken in the middle of the night by festivities of a city ringing in a new year, along with the buzzing of my cell phone as it vibrated across my nightstand. I didn't give myself proper time rejoin the waking world before I slurred out a greeting and was immediately shot back into full consciousness.

"Keep quiet. If Maggie hears you talking to me I'll be in deep shit." My heart nearly stopped. I knew that voice anywhere. That voice was knee-deep in shit. I sat up and focused on my breathing, reducing my boiling blood to a simmer.

"You've got some nerve calling me now. It's been two weeks."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Really. Something came up that I have to take care of and I had no choice. I can't talk about it, I was just calling to see if you're okay." I twisted my fingers in my blanket in effort to stop myself from yelling at him, and decided to change the subject.

"You forgot your blanket here." I murmured, smoothing my hand over the lush brown fur.

"I'll make sure I get it."

"Why do you have this gaudy thing anyway?" I could almost hear him grinning on the other end of the line.

"It's a trophy." My stomach turned.

"So it's real?" I gulped.

"Before you call PETA on me, it's wasn't sport. It was survival. I got separated from my group and was lost with a dead phone and only one bullet left. I was alone, and the bear wasn't happy to see me." A beat of silence passed, in which I once again decided to change the subject.

"Things have quieted down here. Jared confessed to everything so Maggie's leaving tomorrow."

"...What?" I was stunned by his ignorance. It wasn't like Rick to be uninformed.

"So I guess no one told you then." I said.

"No. No one said a thing." The line went quiet. I could swear I was able to hear the spinning turbines of his brain in rapid contemplation. "What will you do then?" He asked.

I shrugged in the darkness, "It'll just be me and my books again. I'll go back to the way things were." I couldn't stop my voice from wavering. Muffled voices in the background sounded over the line, and Rick muttered something away from the phone.

"I'm sorry, I gotta go. Delete this call from your recent list and lose this number." I found myself nodding even though I knew he couldn't see. He muttered something else to whoever was with him before his voice came back into clarity again.

"Listen to me, you're not alone. You're never alone. Even if I'm not there, I'm looking after you. Remember that."

And just like that the line clicked off.

* * *

Alright, that was chapter 13! Let me know what you thought!

Chapter 14 will be Rick's POV! I'll probably update tomorrow. Stay tuned x


	14. Chapter 14

**Theycanstillgrow: "...wait,,,what?! He just left, no good bye? But he spoke to Maggie as he was leaving? That was a 100% dick move, especially knowing how sheltered and vulnerable Michonne is."**

 **can08writer : "Rick better be watching her cuz she's still in danger. How are they just gonna leave her by herself after everything she's been through? But I know Rick won't let anything happen to her."**

 **member00: "Wait...what? Well, this motherfu— Grimes better have a good reason"**

 **Trinrichonnetrash: "I think I'm devastated. Michonne waking up after a night of passionate sex and seeing Maggie on her couch instead of the man she fell in love with gutted me. That hollow sinking feeling she must have felt. I felt tears."**

 **Nwfanmega ""That fucking asshole" indeed. I'm mad at Rick Michonnesus! He's firmly on my shit list for leaving her like that. In the middle of the night?! NO! Wrong, wrong, wrong. Grrrr. You've got me heated! Calming down..."**

\- haha I knew most of you guys who are reading this story would react this way, basically the same way michonne did. that's why I thought I'd be good to show you what happened from Rick's POV. Hope this chapter soothes your anger a little lol!

* * *

 _''How could I let this happen? How could I be so irresponsible? So impulsive? So... fucking stupid?"_

I laid there in the dark and stared up at the ceiling, silently berating myself for doing the one thing a Soldier is never, ever supposed to do. But then I felt her shift against me in her sleep and sigh softly, and when my eyes slid down to see her head on my chest my heart clenched. The imagery of that night came surging back to my conciousness. It was amazing, like quenching a desperate thrist and I know she wanted it as badly as I did. It was unmistabeabkle: the look in her eyes when she pulled my shirt off and poured her gaze over me. I'm sure my expression matched the rawness of hers when I peeled her wet clothes away and kissed her while running my hand over the curves and valleys of her soft body.

Her little sighs and gasps fanned the flames within me and I steadily increased my strenght as I began to slip further under her spell. She had no clue what she was doing to me. She had no clue just how unhinged I had actually become thanks to her. It was a miracle she didn't slap me when I kissed her in the shower. I still couldn't believe that she would even kiss me back, let alone go to bed with me. The softness of her skin drove me wild. The feel of her hair in my hands as I craded her head and smoothed my tongue over hers twisted my stomach in knots. Knots that only tightened as her long legs wrapped around my hips, and her hand gripped my hair, pulling me to kiss her deeper.

I thought for sure she would be like the other women I'd been with. I was so sure she was only in this for the thrill of it. She was scared and lonely, and I was there. I thought she only wanted me for the safety I provided, a warm body to lay next to, and my face. I'll admit I'd learned to use my eyes and smile as deadly weapons against women. And my body would be equally usefully if it weren't so... damaged. In the past I'd found ways to enjoy sex while removing as little clothing as possible, and now that she had me naked the anxious discomfort I'd always had for my physical being was slowy creeping its way into my chest. The blade of panic sliced through me when I thought of how she must feel, seeing my scars and bullet wounds that I'd learned to hide from people over the years to avoid stares. I've never told her how I got them, and whatever she think's happened to me is probably still not as bad as the truth. I knew there was no way she could really want this. I dragged my gaze over her round hips, her small waist, her full breasts to rest on her absolutely beautiful face, she was so perfect, and I was a monster.

I'd stopped, pushing myself up to hover over her as I panted. She softly stroked her fingers through my hair. I wanted her so badly I was sure it would kill me, and I locked my eyes on her. She smiled and her brown eyes were glimmering in a way I'd never seen before. Of all the looks women had given me over the years, those soft bedroom eyes were somehow new to me. She reached up a hand to smooth over my chest, and bravely slid it down my abdomen. I knew where she was heading, and when she reached her destination and grasped firmly my eyes rolled back and I groaned as I sank back down onto her. I rested my forehead against hers as she continued her sweet treatment, and I felt almost guilty. She deserved better then me. She was too beautiful for me. She was too good for me but I had her right where I wanted her, and all I needed was the green light. I searched her gaze for permission, steeling myself for the moment when her eyes would avert from my body and her limbs would be careful not to touch my scars.

But that moment never came. Her deep brown eyes bore into mine and she slid her left hand up my hip to rest on my back, softly stroking it while the other hand smoothed through my hair. She planted her soft lips against a jagged dark scar on my clavicle and when she pulled back to face me again she smiled at me and pulled me down to kiss her.

That was it. That was the moment that everything changed. My heart welled in my chest knowing that she was comfortable, and willing, and she trusted me. That she didn't care about my scars, or my past. So I used every fiber of my being to show her how precious she'd become to me. I'd pushed every gasp from her, drank every soft sigh, savored the test of her warm skin and the sweetness of her full lips as I climbed higher and higher, pulling her with me to the summit. I had her right there, teetering on the edge as she dug her fingers into my hips and shoulders. I'd memorized her body's responses, and I knew her weakest spots. And so I clamped my arms around her and with a few final powerful thrusts, I dragged my tongue over her neck before pulling her mouth to mine and kissing her hard to muffle her cries.

Felling her cling to me desperately and cry out like that nearly pushed me over the eadge, but I didn't finally plummet until she broke the kiss, panting and gasping in my arms and breathlessly whispered in my ear.

"Oh God, Rick."

I shattered.

.

* * *

I only slept for about an hour. When I opened my eyes and saw her curled up against me with her arm around me, my swollen happy heart began to shrivel. What had I done? Of every bad decision I'ld ever made, this was by far the worst. Having sex with the person you were assigned to protect, and like the solid-gold fuckup I'd proven myself to be, I'd managed to even out do myself when it came to epic bad behavior. It wasn't enough for me to simply sleep with Michonne. I had to make it so much worse by falling madly, desperately, and irrevocably in love with her.

I blew out a sigh and pulled the bearskin blanket around her shoulders when she shivered against me, and settled my arms around her as I senk into the mattress, willing myself to surrender to sleep again. But sleep wouldn't come again for me that night, because my phone began to vibrate from the back of my pocket of my pants on the floor. I slid myself from Michonne's hold and she stirred half asleep, moaning softly,

"Mmm... Rick?" She whispered, eyes still closed.

"It's fine, go back to sleep." I murmured. I moved to find my phone, which had since stopped ringing, when I felt her hand on my arm. I stopped, and turned back to run my fingers over her cheek.

"I'll be back in a minute. It's probably Hershel checking in." I said to her peaceful, resting face. I brushed my lips over her brow and slid out of bed, searching the floor in the dark before snatching up my prize and moving out the living room, closing her bedroom door behind me. I stood in her dark living room as I checked my phone and returned Hershel's call.

"I was about to call again. What took you so long?" He said.

"Couldn't find my phone." I half-lied, as I slowly paced in her living room.

"We have a huge problem. You need to get out of there now."

"You want me to take her to my place?" I asked surprised.

"No, you don't understand. You need to leave. I got a message a few minutes ago threatening to fire bomb her apartment if you stay with her."

My blood ran cold.

"...I'm not leaving." I said. "Increase security outside. Do whatever you have to do, but I'm not leaving her."

"Rick, you know what the orders are. You can't stay and put your life at risk."

"I don't give a fuck about my life, you know that. But I care about hers. My orders were to protect her, and that's what I intend to do."

"So you'll risk having a molotov put through the window instead? Think about what you're saying. There's really nothing to discuss here, you need to be out before dawn."

I felt hot anger rise inside my chest. Clearly that son of a bitch somehow knew what happened between us and wanted me to leave her to ruin everything. I raked a hand through my hair, wrestling internally with what to do. Who's to say if I left they wouldn't fire bomb her apartment anyway?

"Hello? Rick?" Hershel's voice broke me out of my thoughts. "What's going on with you? You've been acting weird."

Oh shit.

"Weird?" I said, suddenly feeling very nervous. "Weird how? I'm not weird."

"I know I asked you to get close to Michonne to get information but I'm hoping it stopped there. You're behaving like all this is personal. Did something happen between you and Michonne?"

"No. Nothing's happened. I just care about accomplishing the mission."

"You care about her. I know you do. Don't let it become anything, Rick. It's dangerous and you know it."

I openend the door a jar and looked in on her sleeping form, feeling my heart squeeze involuntarily. I knew what I had to do. I had to protect her. I had to leave.

"Who's replacing me?" I asked quietly.

"Maggie is. I'm increasing security outside to find whoever's watching you, but you need to get out of there. Maggie will be there in an hour. Be ready."

"I will." I said, gazing at her and taking in the way the moonlight illuminated the dark skin of her exposed back. She was so beautiful.

"Don't let her die, Hershel." I murmured sadly before hanging up. For the first time in years I seriously wanted to cry. I was such a fool to have any shred of hope that we could have a future together. She'd proved that she could see past my imperfections, but she still had no idea just how fucked up I actually was. After reentering her room I set my phone on the nightstand and slid back into bed, washing my gaze over her sleeping face yet again, and I could swear that if it were physically possible for a heart to actually break, mine fractured in half at that moment.

She would never forgive me after this. I couldn't tell her I was leaving, because if I had to watch her cry again and beg me to stay, I would never make it out the front door. I couldn't risk telling her to come with me, I knew Hershel knew what he was doing and knew he'd keep her safe. The clock was ticking. I needed to get everything in order so Maggie wouldn't know what we'd done, but first I needed one last taste of her. It was greedy and selfish considering she would wake up alone and angry, thinking that I'd used her and skipped out on purpose, but I couldn't stop myself from kissing her again as my hand slip up her side. Her barely waking body responded so perfectly as I kissed her neck and coaxed her legs apart to settle myself between, and when her arms slid around my neck I knew she was fully aware as she pulled me closer to slide back into her warmth. I couldn't stay long, but I had to have her one more time before never seeing her again.

* * *

When she came back down and settled back into peaceful sleep, I silently gathered my things and got dressed with the heaviest of hearts, trying not to think about how she would feel the next morning and how much she would likely hate me forever. I quietly ran around the dark apartment, getting everything in order as quickly as possible and when my phone buzzed with Maggie's text saying she'd arrived, I slid on my jacket blinking back moisture before opening the front door.

"You have everything?" Maggie asked quietly.

"Yea."

"Hershel's waiting in his car outside. He's got a lead for you, in Washington."

I looked back at her and attempted to mask my misery. I knew Maggie wouldn't be fooled.

"I really don't care anymore."

She blinked back at me in surprise.

"You're giving up after all these years? Trust me, Rick, this is the strongest lead we've ever gotten. Hershel wouldn't send you on some wild goose chase."

I looked back at Michonne's closed bedroom door for a moment before sighing, no longer trying to hide my emotions.

"I'm afraid to leave her. She's gonna get killed if I do." I muttered.

"This isn't like Judith, Rick."

"I know, this is different." I pulled my bag across my body and moved to leave, pausing on my way out.

"Tell her I'm sorry, and I really hope she can forgive me."

And with that, I closed the door behind me and made my way down the hall toward the elevator, telling myself to pull it together and accept the fact that we could never have a future. She would never see me again and when she woke up in the morning to find me gone, she would likely curse my name for the rest of her life.

She would hate me, and I would have to be okay with that. It was better than anyone ever knowing how I felt about her. No one could ever know how much I loved her.


	15. Chapter 15

Here's chapter 15!

I'm not so sure how many chapters still story will have in the end.

I got 20 planned, maybe an Epilogue as well.

There's also another chapter from Rick's POV planned, but it would be about the day before he met Michonne. It would kind of explain his backstory a bit more. Let me know if that's something you would like! I can assure you, all the questions you have will be answered in the end!

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

x

* * *

The silence of my apartment was crushing me. It was cold, stagnant nothingness. What was once my cozy sanctuary now felt more like an isolated museum dedicated to the lonliness I'd cultivated for myself. Tv was worthless. Books had lost their ability to capture me qucikly. Sleep curled her fingers around me every night, luring me into a false sense of security, and I would wake shaking. Sleep soon became something I approached with trepidation, for when my mind surrendered to the soft waves of slumber, my dreams were consumed by the scent of him. Every night I dreamed of light blue eyes.

Rick had changed things. Before him I never questioned the life I'd been living. A small part of me was curious to know a different life, but it was so much easier to remind myself that the world was full of dangers and I would always end up getting hurt by people who didn't understand me. Rick changed all of that. I felt like he was the version of myself that slumbered deep within me, and when I was with him I could truly be myself. I felt more confident, more powerful, graceful and seasoned, even intimidating. He'd awakened yearning within me that I'd choked up to being the stuff of fairytales, and I found myself growing exponentially angry along with my exhaustion. Rick may be gone, but I knew that going back to how things were before Rick was impossible for me. He had shown me just how wrong I was, thinking that I could just surrender to whatever tried to knock me down or living my life on the low. I stopped caring. I started to go out more, and slowly became more and more comfortable with it. I even started to attend self defense classes. I was visiting my Grandmother more often, but it was becoming harder for me to portray happiness when I was with someone. It was ridiculous. I was finally doing all of the things that I've been so afraid of my entire life, but it still felt so empty.

Before I knew it I was hardly sleeping at all. I would catch cat naps during the day, stumble to bed that night still exhausted, only to be shocked awake in the night by the imagine of him and the feeling of him in the room. Consistant betrayal by my own subconsious became torturous. I wouldn't allow me to become a pathetic sap who had once again allowed a man to force her emotions. I decided that if I ever saw Rick Grimes again, I'd punch him square in the nose.

* * *

I was again roused in the middle of the night by the short buzz of my phone on the night stand. A text message from a number listing as all zeros.

 _"Are you alright?"_

I knew it could only be one person, and my blood boiled. How dare he put me through this. How dare he toy with me like that; making me feel so special and so cared for. So loved. And then to turn around and blame me for tempting him? To run away after he said he wouldn't. After he got what he wanted. After he got the only thing that every guy ever wanted. Sex with 'the perfect woman'. My phone buzzed again with another message.

 _"Please tell me you're okay"_

I looked around the darkness of my room, my heartrate increasing as my lonliness closed in on me.

I deleted the messages.

.

* * *

The next night I sat at the bay window of my living room, awake yet again. I gazed down on the city streets with their light dusting of fresh snow and put my sketchbook away. My eyelids grew heavy and I allowed my forehead to rest against the chilled glass of the window as sleep crept over me. I rose from my spot in the window and turned to head to my bed, when I heard scratching. Quiet clinking, tapping, from across the room. It seemed outside, yet inside. Far away, yet very close. I froze and listened carefully. I stared into the dark and my ears strained against the silence, listening for the tiniest of sounds. Nothing. And then.

The deadbolt rolled over. The scraping continued. Clinking and tapping again, when I realized what it was. My front door handle was gently rotating back and forth, twisting one way before halting and reversing. Someone was picking my lock, attempting to break in.

My heart slammed wildly and my brain jumped into overdrive, thinking of what to do next. My phone. I needed my phone. But I couldn't remember where I'd left it and I couldn't see in the dark to find it and I couldn't turn on the lights and give myself away. I kept watching petrified as the knob continued to fidget. I was standing in my panties and a short t-shirt in my bedroom, frightened for my life, when suddenly hot anger filled my chest. I was so fucking done with this. I left my bedroom, walked to the kitchen and when I heard the door open I grabbed whatever was lying around that could serve me as a weapon. I found myself waiting for the intruder at the corner of the corridor with a rolling pin. As soon as I heard the footsteps come close enough to me I swung the thing as hard as I could, but right before the rolling pin could hit it's target the hand of the dark silhouette had caught it. What he didn't see coming was my punch to the chest that knocked the air out of him. He stumbled back a bit to recover for a couple of seconds, pressing his hand to the spot where I hit him. I stepped towards him again, and when he straightened up and quickly raised his hand I blocked it with my forearm. My right arm was ready to strike again and I swung my fist as hard as I could. Right before it could connect with his jaw he quickly moved his upper body down, dodging my punch and I felt his hand grip my left hand, causing my body to turn around completely. He took hold of my right hand as well and pressed my back against his body. I felt his hot breath on my neck and I looked up to find blue eyes staring back at me. He frowned and immediately let me go.

 _"Rick...?"_

I took a step away from him, and he stepped into the light. There he was. He was really standing in front of me. His eyes widened a fraction, he looked surprised. Then relieved. Like he wasn't sure I would be there. Suddenly I was in his arms, his fingers buried in my hair, cradling my head to the curve of his neck. He pulled me closer and breathed me in. My petrified, furious heart melted instantly, and I couldn't stop my arms from snaking around him to clutch the soft fabric of his dark brown jacket, and I let myself fold into his warmth. His wonderful smell invaded my senses; my anger and fear slipped away, making room for exhaustion and my eyes slid shut as I let him hold me. It was only then, in the silence of the night that I realized how heavy he was breathing. How every exhale was an shaky release of oxygen, how his pounding heart finally slowed in his chest. He coaxed me to face him and a warm thumb stroked my cheekbone; his eyes dancing across my face in marveled astonishment. He murmured softly, utterly bemused.

"You're alive."

It was so hard to be mad at him. Any rush of anger swelling toward the surface was immediately pushed down by his hushed voice hovering over me. The brightly burning flame of resentment effectively snuffed out by his solid arms holding me; clutching me to him. Like he was afraid. Like he thought he wouldn't find me here. Like he cared.

 _'yea, like he cared alright.'_

I regained my wits and pushed out of his grasp, instantly feeling colder.

"Okay, Michonne. Let me explain-"

I slapped him across the face. He froze.

"I want you to go."

I'd caught him off guard for the second time that night. I could see him quickly trying to assemble a response in his mind and submit it to himself for consideration instead of just blurting out angrily. It seemed like he was accepting it.

"You're really stronger than you look.", he said dryly while holding his jaw.

"If you're really here for that damn bear skin it's in the guest room. I could've just brought it to base, you know." He flashed utter confusion.

"You think I came back because of that? I though the worst had happened!"

I gaped at him in total perplexity and he asked,

"You haven't answered my calls or texts. I know you're mad at me, but what the hell?" His eyes didn't look angry. He wasn't even yelling really. More than anything he seemed frustrated, exhausted, exasperated. He was different. I had mentally and emotionally prepared myself for all out war with him if I were ever to see his face again, but now he was in front of me and I was completely disarmed.

"What do you mean you thought the worst had happened?" He reeled back in wary disbelief.

"You mean you have no idea? Not a clue?"

"What are you talking about, Rick?" I was beyond aggitated. He pulled out his phone and stepped to me, pushing it at me angrily.

"I came back because of this!" He hissed. "What the fuck is this, Michonne?"

He presented me with an imagine of me in bed, fast asleep. Someone else had taken it. My eyes shot up to his.

"Scroll through." He said. I swiped over once, twice, again and again and again until the final image bounced back in retaliation. They were all pictures of me asleep. Some of them showed a hand of the man who took the photos, stroking my face or lifting my clothing slightly. Different angles, and judging from my varied attire, different nights. I looked up at him in horror. The reoccuring dreams I'd had where it felt like Rick was there were really my subconsious picking up on someone standing in my bedroom. Someone in the shadows, watching me. The final imagine was sent with a text.

"She's so beautiful when her body lies motionless."

My heart fell to my feet and nausea swept through me. I handed back the phone in disgust and he slipped it in his jacket.

"The last image was sent to me three times, over the span of three hours. He took it from a different angle each time but you hadn't moved an inch. I didn't know if he took them all at once and sent them to me seperately or if they were happening in real time. I thought you were dead."

"So you came back to see for yourself? Why didn't you call someone?"

"I called you, remember?"

"Does it really surprise you that I didn't reply to your calls? You are the one that just left me here! Right after..." I paused. Memories of our love-making flooded both of our minds and I could feel his gaze pouring over me, then drinking me in as I stood there in my black lace undies and shirt that was practically see-through. I immediately turned around and stormed to my room to search for my silk robe to cover up as Rick followed close behind, shedding his jacket.

"Michonne, it was for the best. I had to keep you safe." This stopped me.

"Keep me safe, huh?" I challenged sarcastically, and turned back to face him.

"You're really gonna pretend that I mean anything to you and ask for my understanding? You don't deserve anything from me because you already got what you wanted. You did the same thing to me that every guy has ever done and ever wanted to do. You fucked me and then you left!" I turned away from him again to walk to my room when he grabbed my wrist and yanked me back. He radiated anger.

"My heart stopped!" He bellowed, grasping my shoulders. "I got that text, and my heart stopped. I dropped everything, I sacrificed the mission I was on for the last 10 years to get back to you. When Hershel finds out that I'm here he'll destroy me, but I don't care. I never would have left if it were up to me. I had no choice. I never wanted to leave." He repeated, desperate for me to believe him. "I think I've never wanted anything more than to wake up next to you." His expression was raw, seeing him up close again let me take in the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. His beard was longer and his hair was dishelved. His long-sleeve back shirt was wrinkled and pushed to his elbows. How could someone look like hell and still be mouth watering?

"Someone delivered a note to Hershel's door the night we slept together saying that if I was here at daybreak they'd bomb the place. So Maggie came to replace me. I had no time to explain and I had to hide the evidence of what we did that night before Maggie showed up. I would never use you, Michonne." I took in his story quietly. His words savored so strongly of concern, his passionate conviction making it difficult for me to not believe him. The way he looked at me made it impossible for me to be mad at him. He was clearly beyond exhausted, yet putting up such a stong fight against my insecurities. So focused on protecting me not only from the dangers outside, but from the damaging falsehoods my tortured mind was entertaining. I shouldn't have accused him of not caring. He had already showed me in so many ways that he did.

I sighed, lowering my defense.

"You look... awful. Are you alright?" I asked. He calmly pulled me into his arms again and ran his fingers through my hair.

"I am now."


	16. Chapter 16

**Trinrichonnetrash: "I'm glad the 'intruder' turned out to be Rick and not the psycho. I loved when he told her that he's never wanted anything so much, to wake up next to her. Why are Richonne so delicious in this piece of fiction? This psycho is taking pics of Michy in her sleep and sending them to Rick. WTF! Im still thinking its Shane. So uhm...yeah 20 chapters is not gonna cut it for me. Im enjoying this way too much. I want to read about them in a relationship doing stufc and things. How will they navigate that with Rick's job? Will Michonne continue allowing the government to use her? Will she start really living her life? More. More. More. All in favour? Raising my hands, legs, head, in favour. Obama gif of "It is Law.""**

\- hahah! Thank you for your review! That's actually such a great idea! I'll definately think about doing a follow up story that will explore all of that!

 **member00:" "How could someone look like hell and still be mouth watering?" lol Andy Lincoln only knows... I loved the entire confrontation :) The slap, the shouting, the confession, the concern, and finally, the hug :)"**

\- thank you! lmao Andy Lincoln... so true.

 **Richonne4Life: "Go, Michonne! I love how she had enough of the BS and fought back! I'm sure Rick was holding back in how he was defending himself against her, but I thought it was cute how proud he seemed to be that she did fight. And yay, Michonne, for that slap! I empathize with Rick, but he should not have left Michonne in a position where she thought he hit it and quit it."**

 **Chellepo1977: "Loved this update! One for the fact that Michonne was kind of a badass when she heard someone breaking into her apartment. I think that shows how much she's grown through all of this. [...]"**

-I'm glad you guys like Michonnes development so far! Thank you for your reviews!

Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Rick and I had decided that it was best to leave my place. It was obvious that whoever was stalking me had found a new way into my apartment every night. The military's orders were to stay where I was, but Rick was sure that whoever was doing all of this was involved with the military or had connections to it. They were trying to keep me right where they wanted me to be and we weren't going to just sit around and wait for this asshole to attack any longer. Taking me somewhere else would mean disobeying orders for Rick, but he assured me that it was time for him to finally break the rules.

He had offered to take me to his place, and I was surprised because it never really crossed my mind that Rick had a home. He seemed like the type of person who travelled a lot and never really stayed in one place for too long. I was wondering what his apartment would look like. That idea was cancelled shortly after though, because he remembered hat the military probably knew where he lived and might predict that that would be the first place we would go to. So we dicided to drive to a motel. I packed some of my stuff into a bag without knowing how long I would have to stay away from home. In a matter of seconds we were out the door.

Rick started the car and we were both praying that no one would follow us. My bag was laying on my lap and I was nervously fidgeting with the zippers. It scared me to leave everything behind. How long would I have to live like this until this nightmare would finally come to an end? I was used to hiding my entire life, but this was a new level. I almost ripped the zipper when I felt Rick's warm hand over mine and I looked at him. He smiled at me and I felt like all the fear suddenly washed away. That empty feeling I had for the last couple of weeks was gone.

"I'm sorry I hit you earlier." I said regretful. He let out a chuckle.

"I think I deserved that." I squeezed his hand and rubbed my thumb over it softly.

"Where did you learn how to fight?" he asked bemused. I smirked.

"You liked that?"

"Just try not to kill me next time." We both laughed.

When we arrived at the motel Rick made us something to eat and then we spent the rest of the night cuddling on the couch, enjoying each others company. My head was resting on his chest and I felt his fingers lightly comb through my hair as I was drifting off.

* * *

I woke up at nearly 5am to soft murmuring. I lay there for a moment watching him sleep and taking in how relaxed he looked. More relaxed than I had ever known him to be. The Rick I had known was like a wolf, in a constant state of sharp awareness. But this man was sprawled out lazily, softly snoring with his hand scratching his stomach, like a hibernating bear. I listened to the soft mumurs that echoed through the dark room. The shifted moonlight now poured over one end of the couch, illuminating Rick in an ethereal glow far different from the gleam he emitted in every day life. My quiet moment of solitude with him was cut short by his brows furrowing and his beautiful face screwing up in discomfort. His hands clenched, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and digging into the couch cushions. I watched as his head started shifting back and forth, his murmurs increasing in volume accomanied by soft groands and grunts. He was having a nightmare. I continued to watch, wrestling with the decision to wake him or let it pass. A sheen of sweat glimmered across his brow as he continued to thrash. I moved closer until I was hovering over him, taking in his hard panting and the small choked sob that slipped from him. I reached out a hand towards his cheek to comfort him when he groaned,

"Let me go!" I pulled my hand back quickly. He wasn't awake, his speech was slurred. He was quickly becoming more and more upset with every second that ticked by. His head thrashed around and his body began to twist and contort in effort to relieve his discomfort. I reached out my hand again and soothed it across his cheek. He stilled immediately, his whole body visibly relaxing. He opened his eyes and as his face crumbled sadly he sighed out. I could see tears forming in his eyes.

"It's okay, Rick." I whispered softly, stroking his hair. He grabbed me and pulled me into his arms, burying his head in the crook of my neck. I tightened my arms around him, trying to absorb all the pain he was in.

"I'm sorry." I heard him whisper. "I didn't mean to scare you." His voice came out shaky.

"You didn't." I kissed his temple. He took a deep breath and I felt his furious heart slow down again. He pulled away a bit and looked at me. His eyes kept dancing back and forth between my own, contemplating if he would really give in to his desire to let it all out.

I gave him a comforting smile, still stroking his temple. He looked away. He couldn't tell me about it.

My hand left his face. I straightened up and pulled away, but he reached out and took my hand in his. When I looked up I was met with a pleading look. He wasn't ready to tell me about himself yet. And I would have to accept that. I couldn't push him.

A loud thud coming from the front door startled us both. The door was knocked down and Rick immediately jumped from the couch, but before he could make it to his gun the intruder had his already pointed at us.

"Shane!"

"I wouldn't try that if I were you." He said wickedly. I could practically feel the hot anger radiating from Rick. Two other men came through the knocked down front door who I recognized being soldiers as well. One of them came up to me and pushed me to stand up, gripping my hands and keeping them together behind my back so I wouldn't move.

"Don't fucking touch her." Rick growled. Shane let out a chuckle.

"That's so sweet, Grimes."

"Why are you doing this, Shane?" Rick asked frantically, his eyes darting back and forth between me and him. My mind was racing, trying to find a way out for us.

"We're all just following orders, Rick. I thought you, out of all people, could understand that." Rick's jaw looked like it was about to break.

"I'm gonna kill you."

"Good luck with that. You're welcome to try and fight all three of us and see how that works out for you."

"I've taken down far greater numbers with my hands alone, you know that. You told Michonne to be afraid of me, you should take your own advice." Rick threatened menacingly. Shane threw his head back in laughter.

"Right you are, Rick. I have seen you slaughter dozens of people in seconds like it was nothing. Question is, do you want her to see that? Do you really have it in you?"

Rick's sharp eyes never faltered, forever focused on Shane and his gun. There was a long silence. I knew Rick was working through every possible way he could get us out of this mess in his mind.

"Simon, Gavin, get her out of here. Someone's expecting us."

The man pushed me again and I tried to fight him. I shot Rick one last look and I could see the panic building up inside him. As I was being dragged out the door towards the kitchen I lost sight of him, but I could still hear Shane's mischievous voice echoing through the apartment.

"Don't worry Rick, she'll be in good hands."

Gavin stopped right next to the kitchen counter and I felt his gun leave my temple as he began tying my hands behind my back. Simon followed us, preparing a piece of duct tape to put over my mouth.

"Hold still for me, darlin'." He said as he stepped in front of me.

"I mean, we might have a little fun with her before we deliver her. But I promise you we're not gonna kill her. You on the other hand..." I heard the clicking of Shane's gun and felt my heart beat a thousand times quicker. My brain shut down.

I head-butted the guy standing in front of me and he stumbled back. I didn't have time to recover from the pain it caused to my head.

"Hey!" The other one stopped tying my hands and reached for his gun, but I grabbed a knife from the counter and stabbed him at his side without pulling it out. My own actions took me by surprise, but I couldn't lose any time. Gavin fell to the floor screaming and I made a run towards to living room.

Before Shane could pull the trigger he heard the loud noises coming from his accomplices. He turned around and that second was enough for Rick to grab his gun.

A loud gunshot rang out. Before I could run over to Rick I felt Simon take hold of me again and press his gun to my temple. Gavin came stumbling back into the living room shortly after him, his hand hovering over the knife that was still stuck in his side and his gun in the other. Rick had managed to take cover behind the couch as Gavin started shooting at him.

"You dumb bitch..." Simon grunted into my ear as he pushed me out the front door.

A wet rag came into my sight and I tried to leap back from it, but with no luck. The cloth covered my mouth and nose, and after a few moments of struggling I couldn't hold my breath any longer. I inhaled the stench of chloroform, and instantly my vision swam. Sight, smell, taste and touch fell away from me, all I could hear was Rick screaming my name over the gun fire. The last thing I recalled was a van that I was thrown into and Shane holding his bleeding shoulder next to me while the engine was started. All I saw was red, then everything went black.

* * *

I'm probably gonna upload the next chapter in a couple of hours already!

Some of Rick's backstory will finally be revealed to you,

Stay tuned!


	17. Chapter 17

My mind went live to silence. Harsh cold against my skin, I was on my side laying on cold concrete. It was an old warehouse. I heard footsteps approaching me, and mustered what little strength I had to open my tired eyes and peer into the darkness. Suddenly a single incandescent bulb jutting out from the socket in a nearby wall beamed to low-wattage life; it's understated brilliance stretching far up the wall from which it was mounted before being devoured by the night. Standing on the edge of the shadows was a tall and solid man with black hair and a grey beard. He looked to be in his fourties, and the personification of strenght and discipline, wearing a black leather jacket over his white shirt.

"You're awake. I was wondering when you'd finally come to, darling. I knew it would be a bit, since we've been sedating you, but two days is a long time."

I was desperately hungry, dehydrated beyond belief, and too weak to move almost at all. I fidgeted slightly and found my wrists were bound behind me. My legs were bound at the ankles and I didn't have the strength to budge them even an inch.

"Please help me." I croaked softly, my throat raged from the dryness. I shook uncontrollably from the cold and being clad in only my undergarments. I was completely filthy.

"I am, Michonne. You see, you've served a great purpose to the military all these years, but what was all of it for? You've seen how this world treats you. This world doesn't deserve your saving. I'm here to make it all better for you."

I couldn't tell if my nausea was brought on by my malnourished state, or the way he smiled so genuinely when talking about the workings of my torment.

"But, where are my manners. I haven't even properly introduced myself yet." He flashed me a cocky smile.

"I'm Negan. I know all of this is still kinda confusing to you, but I'll to my best to explain." I used all the strength I had to sit up a bit.

"The virus that you cured twenty years ago was deadly enough to wipe out the entire human race. The military used all the resources they had to find the cure and they managed to not only find a cure thanks to your blood but also keep it a secret in the end, making everything seem like a crazy myth. But I had my connections to the government. I kept my eyes on you. I saw how people treated you your whole life for being special. How no one seemed to really understand it. How everyone just used you. Michonne, imagine a world without all of that. A world without the government. The end of the world for everyone else, exept for you and me and the empire we build."

Everything that came out of this man's mouth didn't make any sense to me. He suddenly kneeled in front of me and placed his hand over my cheek.

"When my wife died from cancer I realized that I couldn't accept the things that happen to me. I think out of all people you're someone who know's best that this world just isn't fair. Some people just don't deserve to be alive. And others who deserve it just die from illnesses. I formed an organisation over the past years, the Saviours. As you've probably realizied by now, there are even some active duty members working within my organisation. Our goal is to put out the same virus that was threatening to wipe out the human race, but this time we're keeping the cure for ourselves. We're saving the one's who deserve to be saved. We will establish a new world order, Michonne."

I was back and forth betwen sweltering an freezing to death. My body shook from the cold yet sweat dripped down my brow, fridgit concrete being both my torture and my relief. My abused mind began to wonder. There was no way Hershel knew that some of the military members were under the influence of a confirmed psychopath. If it had really been two days, where was Rick? How much time did he have left? Was he even coming for me? Did Shane...?

"You're not listening." He stated. "You're not wondering about this asshole, are you?" His hand started gripping my hair now, moving my head to look him in the eyes.

"You've actually been very helpful in bringing him down so far. When I realized just how important you had become to him I sent the message threatening to fire bomb your apartment so he would leave, just for the opportunity to turn the knife some more when I sent him the pictures of you while you were sleeping. I knew my efforts would be rewarded with his obsession with you, it's impossible for him to not relate to you. You're both government experiments! The only difference being while you're the 'Control', complete physical perfection inside and out, he's malformed abomnation. A mentally short-circuting experimental failure. A good assassin should be largely apathetic, but Rick is emotional. It was so easy to manipulate him. The key to bringing down Grimes isn't hand-to-hand combat or the battle of weaponry. It's not physical. It's mental. It's emotional. It's you."

He shoved me away and stood, turning to walk away from me towards a metal table under the single light. He picked up a syringe full of a vermilion substance to show me.

"We're currently synthesizing some of your blood."

"Please don't do this." I cried softly. Negan walked to stand over me again, as dozens of his soldiers flanked him from the shadows, armed with heavy artillery.

"There's nothing that can stop us now. If you continue to stand on the enemies side I'll be forced to kill you after everything's done. You really want me to do that, sweetheart? Once I've killed you, Rick will no longer have the will to live and taking him down will be simple. He's fought tirelessly for the lives of others, but he despises his own. He's been ready to die for years, only problem is he's hard wired for survival." He said.

I stared blankly, unable to make heads or tails of what I was hearing. Negan must've sensed my confusion, because he grinned wickedly and said,

"You don't know about him, do you? Since you're about to die, I'll let you in on a little secret. Have you ever wondered about how the virus was even created in the first place? Twenty years ago some military scientists had secretly started to experiment on people. Their goal was to create an army out of people who couldn't die from any wounds. Children had been obducted , they were put into a coma and their memories were wiped, then replaced with knowledge of how to be the perfect soldier. The perfect assassin. But none of them could handle it, they either died during their surgery or went mad or killed themselves after mental procedure. Everyone except Rick."

"No..." My eyes queezed shut and tears spilled, my heart crying for Rick's broken soul. Negan wiped a tear from my cheek.

"After other high ranking officers realized what was happening they decided that instead of having him executed he should become active duty member and put his newfound 'talents' to good use against our enemies. In a sense, he wound up to become exacty what they always wanted him to become. While spending the next sixteen years digging for answers about his former life he's gotten close to exposing some of my accomplices from the military. I can't have him getting in the way this time."

When he looked in my eyes and saw the hatred I felt for him, as well as the pain I felt for Rick while hearing about his past his face turned emotionless. He turned to one of his soldiers in the back.

"Drain her."

* * *

My heart pounded and I let out a choked sob. This was it. The soldier knelt before me and poised the needle at the surface of my bruised skin, when there was a loud shatter. The empty syringe had burst, and blood exploded from a hole in his hand. He screamed, and the single lightbulb shattered, shrouding us in darkness. Multiple guns ratcheted, ready to fire at an unseen target. The moon's brightness poured in from skylights high above us, and cast it's white glow over the 20 men surrounding me. I could barely see anything in the blackness, and keeping my eyes open had become a trying challenge.

"It seems we have a visitor." I heard Negan say. "And if it's who I tink it is, then it's safe to say he's brought his rag-tag group of soldiers with him!" I felt my head suddenly yanked back harshly by my hair yet again, pain shooting through my scalp and my neck twisting awkwardly. He slammed my head into the concrete.

* * *

My head swam to the sounds of gunfire and screams being cut off in a throaty, gutteral sputtering. I heard guns and bodies dropping to the floor, and an explosion rocked the room, followed by Negan's raging screams of protest. Something about all his work being gone forever. There was brightness coming through my eyelids; sudden heat scorching my frigid skin from a distance, and I tried to peer my eyes open but was foiled by my splitting head ache. I forced myself to sit up and used the splattered glas of the syringe to try to cut myself free. When I finally managed to cut through the ties I got up and made my way through the dark hallways of the old warehouse, with the piece of glass in my hand.

I followed the noise through the dark corridors when suddenly I got attacked yet again by a man who crossed my way. He smiled at me wickedly, feeling lucky to be the one having found me escaping. He started walking towards me, and instead of running away I gripped the piece of glass harder and started running towards him. It caught him of guard and before he was able to pull out his weapon I had spun around and smashed the sharp glass into his chest as hard as I could, cutting my own hand in the process and coating my entire body in the blood of my screaming victim. The man slid down the wall and fell to the floor. My eyes fixated on his lifeless body and I took a few steps back in horror. I had taken someone's life in such a vicious, primal way and it left me breathless.

I continued running down the halls when my vision newly focused on flames roaring across the room and quickly climbing the walls. Beakers, test tubes, and vials all lay smashed: their crimson contents pooling across the floor surrounding the gleaming shards. Dozens lay in blood with faces petrified in wide-eyed horror, paralysed by their final vision of the waking world. My gaze shifted, and I saw Maggie, along with Sasha, Daryl, Glenn and other soldiers of the military. And there he was, a dark silhouette against the bright orange flames. His back to me while gripping his enemy's collar, pressing the gleaming edge of a long blade against Negan's throat.

"I got everything taken from me once," Rick's voice graveled. "You're not taking it again."

I watched as his right arm reared back then drove the blade home in the base of Negan's throat. I'd never known so much blood could come from one person. I had no idea someone's muscular anatomy could be pulled from their body with such ease, then wick away from blood-covered metal with such grand, devastating flourish. When he let go of Negan's lifeless body he turned around. He was covered in blood and when his predatory glare finally found mine his expression crumbled and he dropped his weapon. When I felt like my head couldn't take the pain anymore my knees gave in and the last thing I saw was Rick running towards me, calling my name.

* * *

Hope that's not too much to take in, lol. Thank you for reading! The next one should be up very soon!


	18. Chapter 18

Low murmuring voices pulled me to the surface. I could hear, but I couldn't move or speak or even open my eyes. The heart monitor beeped softly, a steady metronome amongst the hushed whisperings. Everything ached. My entire body seemed to whine in protest of my conciousness, my head pounded, and my mouth was dry. The muffled voices began to slowly become clear.

"...can be arranged, if it's what you really want. I'm not saying it's an easy life, but it's managable. With proper therapy- "

"-Absolutely not. Out of the question."

I knew these voices. It was Hershel and Rick.

"You're not giving yourself enough credit. You saved her life."

"She nearly died because of me."

"You can't shoulder all the guilt for this. We were all following the orders. It was already too late when we figured it out. There was no way to avoid this, really. You have to accept that and be grateful you were able to stop it before it cost you everything." Hershel spoke in a manner I'd never heard before. Gone was the towering authority, replaced with the calmness of sage wisdom and the softness of family speaking to family. I heard a shuddering intake of air.

"What if it already cost me everything?" Rick asked, his voice cracking. "It's been three days, why isn't she waking up?"

Hershel's voice became muffled and fell away from me as I surrendered to exhaustion.

* * *

The fuzziness began to clear again, and I was met with the hysterical voice of my Grandmother.

"...personally responsible! This is an absolute outrage! Where is he? Where is that bastard of yours who failed to do his job?!"

"Mrs. Anthony, please. If you would only calm down for a moment we-"

"Calm down?! My Granddaughter is stalked, kidnapped, beaten, drained of blood within an inch of her life, and you want me to be calm? You all need to get your heads out of your asses!"

"Mrs. Anthony?" My heart sank at the sound of Rick's voice, wary and defeated and so unlike him. I could hear Maggie in the room as well, taking the tongue lashing from my Grandmother.

"Rick what are you doing here? You haven't recovered yet, does Denise know you're here?" Her question went unanswered.

"You." My Grandmother started. "Are you the soldier who was supposed to be guarding my Granddaughter?" The room grew quiet except for the beeping of the heart moniter.

"Yes." He answered bleakly.

"If you weren't such a tall drink of water I'd reach up there and knock you into the next week you irrisponsible, good-for-nothing, son of a bitch!"

"Mrs. Anthony, that's quite enough!" Maggie yelled. My heart returned to it's throbbing thanks to all my Grandmother's yelling, and I began to drift in and out of Maggie's stern voice reasoning,

"This most likely would have happened wether Rick was involved or not. It's thanks to him that Michonne is still with us, and... ...more than his own safety... ...not his fault..."

* * *

Wetness dripped on my hand. I remained immoble as my mind clumbed out of the abyss once more, unaware of the time or date, if I was alone or in the presence of others. The usual noisy hustle and bustle that accompanied the daytime was noticeably absent, replaced with stark quiet and a lock of movement from my surroundings. I suddenly realized my hand was folded between two warm hands, and warm beads continued to roll over my skin.

"I'm so sorry." He croaked. "For everything."

I screamed at my body to move. Twitch a finger, blink an eye, do something for God's sake. But alas, I remained stationary. The mattress dripped as I felt him shift to sit beside me, and warm lips pressed themselves to my forehead.

* * *

My eyes finally fluttered open to sunlight pouring through venetian blinds. Looking around I saw that I'd been hooked up to not only a heart monitor , but various machines dedicated to monitoring my other organs and two IVs, one giving me nutrients, the other giving me blood. Hershel sat in a chair against the wall at the foot of my hospital bed, looking horrible. Dark circles, day-old stubble, his hair disheveled.

"Welcome back." He said. His military uniform jacket lay folded over the empty chair beside him and his white shirt was sloppily pushed to his elbows and open at the collar. He looked like he hadn't been sleeping. My inability to hide my stare wasn't lost on him.

"If you think I look bad, you should see Rick." Maggie walked in at that moment and came to my bedside with a plastic cub full of ice chips. She spooned one out and fed it to me.

"You can't have anything to drink yet, but these are okay. We'll take it slow." Nothing in the world felt as good as the ice melting in my dry mouth. Maggie continued to feed me chips while Hershel spoke.

"If you're wondering, Rick's okay. He's a mess, but he'll be alright. He's worried about you." He turned to Maggie as if I wasn't there and added, "You'd think he'd listen to me when I told him 50 goddamn times that she'd be fine." He chuckled a little.

"Cut him some slack. Remember when I was in the hospital after taking that bullet a couple years back?" She turned back to me and smiled. "He paced outside my room wringing his hands nervously for days, even though he'd been told more than once I'd be perfectly fine and home by the weekend." This earned a smile from me. The first one that felt like forever. I finally found my voice, albeit a weak one and said,

"Can I see him?" Maggie moved to sit next to Hershel.

"Not yet," He responded. "You're still recovering and so is he. At the moment almost every member of the army is being interrogated. We've been able to make out all the 'Saviors' in our ranks. Rick is being questioned about everything that's happened and his relationship with you. It'd be best to stay away from him for a while."

"Wait, he's recovering? Did he get hurt?" I tried to recall what had happened after Rick killed Negan, but came up empty. Maggie and Hershel cast each other a quick glance.

"He took a bullet to the shoulder but he's fine." She said. "However, his mental state is fragile. He's been spending hours with his therapist everyday." I bit back a gasp and pushed down my rising panic at the thought of him being shot.

"His therapist?" I asked. Maggie cast Hershel another worried glance and he gave her a small nod to proceed. Clearly I was tip-toeing on a sensitive subject.

"He's been seeing a therapist regularly for years." Maggie explained. "Rick's had a diffucult life, therapy helps keep his head above water. But it's obvious that he's seriously relapsed considering everything that has happened with you."

"It's possible for Rick to get violent outbursts. They're always triggered by prolonged periods of intense emotional distress. I didn't want Rick to be the one watching over you because I was afraid of him becoming too emotionally involved and becoming a danger to you and ultimately himself. Make no mistake, I would trust Rick with my own life, but you and Rick are both like family to me. I knew if he ever met you, he'd grow to love you just as the rest of us have." His eyes flickered towards the window on-looking the nurse's station and I followed his gaze to find the smiling faces of Glenn, Daryl, Sasha, Rosita and Abraham looking in on me.

It was then that I finally realized what Rick had been trying to help me see all along. I wasn't alone. I was never alone and I would never be alone. I had family in my Grandmother, who at 76 wasn't afraid to mouth off to an assassin in my defense. I had friends in the soldiers that risked their lives to save me. Who took me in and watched me grow and gave me the tools to cure sicknesses. And I had love in Rick, who became the first person I could truly open up to. The person who went the furthest out of his way to make me comfortable and secure. He never missed an opprtunity to empower me, to help me face a fear, to catch me whenever I would fall and I found myself being a completely new person because of that. He helped me believe I could be the person I'd always tried to hide from people. Maggie's voice brought me back to the room.

"I know how much you care about Rick. Just know that he's okay and understand that it will be a while before you can see him."

"If he's allowed to, that is." Hershel added.

"If he's allowed to? What do you mean?" Hershel saved Maggie the discomfort of having to continue and answered for her.

"Rick cared deeply for you. He's never broken so many rules and he'd never disobeyed so many orders until he met you. When he was ordered away from your apartment I sent him to Washington to look into something important as a way to keep him busy; I didn't want him pre-occupied with what was happening with you, no effense. I needed his head on straight if he had any hope of doing his job and keeping you safe, but he completely sacked the mission when he started getting pictures of you sleeping. He's never sabotaged a mission before, knowing full well that such behavior is a great way to get court marshalled. He might face great consequenses now. I wanted someone else guarding you because any other soldier would have been sent in with oders to succeed in keeping you safe at any cost, even if it meant sacrificing their own life. But when the order came in to send Rick to you, the situatuon changed. Assassins like Rick aren't like other soldiers. They aren't ordered to succeed at all costs. They're ordered to survive at all costs. Because there are so few of them and their skills are so valueable, the army has been known to abort missions and try again later if it meant they could save an assassin. Rick was told by higher ranking officers who had been working with Negan that if things got really bad, he was to get out and leave you to die."

Maggie sat forward and quickly interjected, "Please believe we were never okay with that, Michonne. We wanted someone watching you who would have orders to keep you alive no matter what. That's why Rick wasn't supposed to be there."

"Rick put himself in immense danger going after you." Hershel continued. "He completely shattered protocol by coming with us to the warehouse where Negan was draining you and running into gunfire to get to you. I had instructed him to wait for the opportune moment to incapacitate Negan and his men and shut down the operation. But I could barely hold him back. He want ballistic and slaughtered everyone, putting his life at risk. He spent days going out of his mind thinking you were dead and the stress made him relive his past in his nightmares."

I recalled the the sound of his broken voice when he awoke that night from his nightmare, telling me he didn't mean to scare me and holding onto my hand. My tears started to fall.

"Negan... told me about Rick's past."

I looked at both of them and saw utter pain in their eyes.

"I believe Negan probably didn't tell you the whole truth..." Hershel started. "We all have your demons that we're trying to down, but they're nothing compared to Rick's. Perhaps knowing what his are will help you decide if that's a path you're willing to go down."

I nodded slowly.

"I met Rick 17 years ago..."

"I was a Colonel, spending my days investigating the disappearances of nearly 300 children who all went missing in a matter of a month. It wouldn't have seemed unusual because if its global scale, but the demographic caught our attention. We learned they were all boys between the aged 12 and 14, in good health, and all were straight A students. Months of searching finally led us to a warehouse just outside the city limits near Washington."

A little flag waved in my head. Didn't Rick say he left my apartment because of something he had to take care of in Washington?

"I've been to war and seen my share of horrible things, but nothing could've prepared me for what we found in that warehouse. Outside it appeared abandoned, but the inside was a full-scale, experimental medical facility. Hundreds of people: doctors, surgeons, scientists and soldiers had all banded together for one purpose. To create an army of unstoppable assassins. They had abducted kids so they could brainwash them to forget who they were, torture them until they couldn't feel any pain anymore and train them to fight, all to turn them into ruthless killers."

"How could someone do something like that? Who would be so sick?" I asked, blinking back tears.

"We could find no information on anyone working in the facility. The computers had been wiped. When you have a seat of power it's very easy to cover things up. When my garrison arrived, the walls and floors were a fresh coat of red. We were too late. Everyone in the building was dead, expect for one. The first time I ever laid eyes on Rick he was sitting in a pool of blood, surrounded by his victims. He was 12 years old."

I had no words. I stared at Hershel in utter shock, and he dipped his head down towards a nearby cabinet and resurfaced with a couple of highball glasses and bottle of amber liquid. He poured us each two fingers.

"This helps. It may not be considered a healthy way of coping, but I dare some self-righteous psychiatrist to say anything about it after hearing this story. Telling it never gets easier."

I took a swallow and he continued.

"There were files on all the kids who were taken, detailing who they were and where they were from. But we searched high and low and never found any information about our lone survivor. Rick had no memory of his life. He's told me his earliest memory is waking up on the operating table and completely losing control. He has no idea where he's from, when he was born; his age is an estimation made by medical professionals, we're not even completely sure his name is Rick. There was a band on his wrist when we found him with his height, weight and blood type. The only name was listed as R.G. He only suspects his name could be Rick."

I was beyond floored. How in God's name did he manage to carry on? The loneliness of my life paled in comparison to his suffering. To wake up surrounded by strangers, with no memory of who you are and how you got there; to be the only known person to survive all of the torture.

I pushed down the lump in my throat.

"After that, the general at the time was ready to execute him for his obvious crime, maintaining that the child was a monster and a serious threat to society. I stopped him. There was just something about Rick... I managed to convince him to let me adopt him. I promised to take all the responsibilty for what would happen. They let us work with him and train him up to become a soldier. It was easy to see his unique abilities as a powerful asset to us. After two years of intensive theory with psychologists, he had improved so rapidly that he was employed as a state assassin. He wanted to be a force for the good, instead of the mass-destructive purpose he was created for. He works almost exclusively with counter terrorism efforts; he's responsible for thwarting countless terrorist attacks all over the globe. He's helped maintain a level of peace the world is completely unaware was even at risk. He does it all in secret because of his abnormailty. The world has no clue what he's gone through to help others because he doesn't open up to people. He hides himself away, much like you do."

It made so much sense in that moment, the reason we were so drawn to one another. We had more in common than we thought.

"There's a few things I don't get." I said, "If Shane was working with Negan, why did he warn me about Rick at the charity function?"

"My guess would be to frighten you. Making you afraid of Rick would make protecting you very difficult. And since Negan had an obsession with you, he probably instructed him to drive a wedge between you two."

"So what happened to him? And all the other people that worked for Negan?"

"Most of them are dead. Shane is currently being locked away, together with Simon and the other members of the Saviors. We were able to find a list of all of Negans connections to the military in the warehouse. Everyone's being interrogated and hopefully this will all be over soon."

I nodded and began to slowly process everything that Hershel had told me.

"What are you going to do about Rick? If you walked away no one would blame you. He knows that a life with him comes with insane baggage, it's absolutly the reason he's avoiding you." I contemplated his words for a moment.

"Do you know where he is? Can I see him? I just... I just really need to talk to him." Hershel regarded me cooly before responding.

"You're a remarkable person, Michonne. Despite everything you've seen and learned about him you're not afraid of him. In spite of everything that's gone down, you still care." He gave me a small smile. I couldn't help but feel like he was happy to know that Rick could finally find some happiness. "I don't know what he'll say, but I think you two could do each other a lot of good."

He drained his glass.

* * *

I hope your questions about Ricks past have all been answered now! Please let me know what you thought!

The next chapter will be another chapter of Rick's POV: a flashback to the day Rick and Michonne first met each other.

Thanks for reading! x


	19. Chapter 19

Here's chapter 19!

Thank you so much for sticking with this story for so long! I read the reviews every morning and they literally make me so happy, so thank you to everyone who takes the time out of their day to send me something! I'm currently writing the last chapter + collecting ideas for the sequel. If you got any ideas feel free to let me know! Maybe just send me a pm so if I end up using some ideas there won't be any spoilers in the review section!

Hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

 _'Pull the trigger. Just man the fuck up and pull it.'_

The gun was unsteady in my trembling hands, the barrel's tip pressing into the flesh under my jaw. My finger was on the trigger, all I had to do was squeeze, and it would all be over. All my suffering would be done. A bead of sweat fell down my face, and my phone began to vibrate in my pocket. Jesus Christ. I couldn't even get 5 minutes alone to fucking kill myself. I picked it up and slurred my words.

"Whaddayawant?"

 _"I need you to get on a plane. Now please."_

I snorted incredulously at the order. Hershel Greene, always finding a way to ruin my fun. The fact that my idea of fun was drowning myself in vodka and blowing my brains out in the bathroom of a seedy bar in Moscow was irrelevant.

 _"Did you accomplish your mssion?"_ He asked.

"Yea he's dead. Deadsa fuckin' doornul."

 _"I think the phrase is, 'dead as a door nail'... You've been drinking again."_

"Yup." I nodded, gun still firmly wedged under my chin. "I've got halfa mind'ta ne'er come back."

The line went quiet.

 _"...Put the gun away, Rick. Where's Daryl?"_

"He's off with some prostitute getting blown 'er some shit idda know. I dun' care. I can't do this anymore. I can't look hhhnemore." I hiccuped and let the gun fall to my side as my eyes swam and my throat tightened. "I thought we'd find something."

 _"We will, we just need more time."_

"16 years!" I roared, my voice cracking from the strain. My head swam and my stomach lurched. Oh fuck.

"Hang on." I rushed, and leaned over the toilet to vomit. After a minute or so I sat back and wiped my mouth, gasping to catch my breath.

 _"You okay?"_ He asked. I said nothing. _"Rick, you've been through this. Think about how far you've come. Think about all the good you've done for this world."_

"How many times can I do this? I'm tired, Hershel!" I choked. "I'm so tired. I don't care anymore."

 _"Yes you do. You wouldn't have answered your phone if you didn't care. Now sober up, find Daryl and get back to Atlanta please."_

I sighed in defeat and staggered to stand, looking down at the vomit on my shirt. I was such a fuck-up I couldn't even kill myself properly.

"Immon my way."

 _"I'm glad to hear it."_

I hung up, splashed some water on my grimy face in effort to come back to reality, and opened the bathroom door to line a grouchy drankards not unlike myself impatiently waiting. They scowled and muttered curses in Russian at me as I walked by, 'lazy bastard' this and 'fucking Americans' that. But I didn't care. I looked around the dark smokey bar and sighted Daryl at a tiny table in the far corner with his tongue down a girl's throat. I staggered over and tapped him on the shoulder. He looked up at me and grinned.

"You look like you've been having fun." He said, gesturing to my obvious state of inebriation. If only he knew what I'd almost done.

"Speak for yourself." I said, lifting my head lazily to the side in the direction of his female companion.

"Hershel called, we gotta go." Daryl shrugged and knocked back his last shot of vodka before rattling off in Russian to the girl. I drummed my fingers to the beat up wooden table impatiently. I needed fresh air. Daryl finally stood and helped me out of the bar, just in time for me to stumble down the side alley to throw up as he lit a cigarette and called our contact at the Air Force Base nearby.

"It's Dixon. There's been a change of plans, we're heading back tonight. Pack up and head to the tarmac. But on your way, could you swing by and pick us up? Grimes and I..." He paused and looked back at me as I heaved again. "We're not so fit to drive."

.

* * *

It was dark. I couldn't feel my body, and I was fighting to drag myself back into consciousness. Suddenly a bright light shined above me, and I squinted against the strain as three shadowy figures came into view, hovering over me. They murmured to each other softly at first, but their voices became louder and frantic and they looked back and forth at each other, then me, then at each other again.

"Why is he awake? What did you do?!" They screamed in horror, "Sedate him! Sedate him!" The shrieks were ear shattering, and I saw red.

I awake with a start, putting my hand to my chest in effort to calm my erratic breathing. It was the same nightmare I've always had since I could remember, only each time I had it I would see a different part of the memory. It wasn't just a night terror, it was real. Something I'd been fighting unsuccessfully to block out for years. Something I would give anything in the world to stop reliving when I slept. I pushed myself up on my elbows, getting my bearings. I was on the plane. It wasn't a commercial jet liner with first class accommondations, it was a military plane, bare bones on the inside for utilitarian purposes. Someone had scrounged up a cot for me to pass out on. I was still in the same disgusting clothes, reeking of booze and bad decisions and I pulled myself to sit upright. I felt horrible; exhausted, nauseous yet starving, my head was pounding, my stomach was in knots. It was no ordinary hangover.

I felt something in my back pocket, and I fished it out only to gasp in shock and quickly shove it back in my pocket before anyone saw. I'd completely forgotten that I'd bought coke off a crack head in the alley behind the bar.

I made my way over to the jumper seats that lined the plane's walls, my footsteps slow and careful, and eased myself down in the seat next to daryl. I ran a hand through my messy hair and groaned. Daryl slid his eyes over my way.

"He lived." He said, taking a draw on his cigarette.

"Barely." I muttered. "Where are we?"

"We're over the Atlantic now. You're a fucking mess, you know that?"

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm just so sick of being let down. I really thought we'd at least get some info or something." He gave me a non-committal shrug in response and nodded.

"Believe me, I wanted to find something too. But there's gotta be a better way for you to deal with these setbacks. Something less ...destructive."

I looked up in surprise. "Did I hurt someone?"

"I'm talking about self destruction, Rick." I furrowed my brow at him and shot back,

"Says the guy who chain smokes like a chimney." He glared at me before relaxing and saying.

"That's rich coming from the guy who snorted blow off a hooker's tits last night."

My jaw hit the floor and I nearly fell out of my chair.

"I did WHAT?"

He nodded solemnly, confirming the worst. I sat back, hands raked in my filthy hair in shock.

"Dick move, Grimes. Now pony up the stash, I know you have it."

I'd never fished drugs out of my pockets so fast in my life.

"Take it." I said. "I can't believe I did that. No wonder I crashed so hard last night."

"You passed out face first in the snow." He smirked at me. I felt a grin crawl across me, as his own widened and suddenly we were both laughing till our stomachs hurt.

"Ahhh fuck," he said, wiping wetness from his eyes as he shook off the bits of our laughing fit.

"Seriously though, I can't keep covering up for you. I should tell Hershel about this."

"Don't. It won't happen again."

"Yeah, I've heard that one before. If it's not cocaine it's something else, Rick. We can't keep doing this shit. I know I'm not exactuly the picture of good health, and I'd never try to tell someone how to live their life. I couldn't imagine trying to live yours, but I've got to guess there's better ways to cope with the life you're living."

I said nothing as I let his words sink in.

"I called Hershel and Glenn after I dragged you into the car. He told me to brief you on your assignment when you were sober. Are you sober?"

I nodded as he continued, taking another long drag off his cigarette.

"You're being sent to protect someone." He said. My jaw hit the floor for the second time.

"What? No way. Absolutely not! I can barely keep my shit together now without having to babysit someone. Is Hershel out of his mind?"

"Hershel doesn't want you going, the oder came from higher ranks." I found this interesting.

"The person you're protecting is extremely important. That's why you've gotta keep it together." He said.

"Lemme guess. Sleazy, middle-aged politician again?" I asked.

"No."

"Celebrity? World leader?"

"No, she's a civilian." I'd had about all the surprises I could take.

"A woman?" I sputtered, utterly flabbergasted. "Oh no. No, no, no. I can't guard females." I'd sworn off protecting women for the military, there were too many variables.

"She's not like anyone you've dealt with in the past. She's a very unique woman, extremely important to the government. She's been working with the military since she's a child, much like you."

"If she's been around that long then I probaby know her." I said.

"It's Michonne Anthony." I started back at him blankly, and he blinked in surprise.

"You don't know her? Haven't met her or seen her around base?" I shrugged, skaking my head and he smoothed a hand over his face and blew out a long, low whistle in awe.

"Wow, well, get ready."

"What's that mean?" I asked. "Is she a pain in the ass? Or crazy? Is she an old hag?" he shot me a look.

"That's a personal friend of mine you're talking about. She's close with all of us. She's also smart and a sweetheart. As for appearances, well, you'll find out."

* * *

Midday sunlight poured in my windows and dragged me out of my sleep. I sat up groggy, dying to say fuck it and go back to bed, but I knew I was better than that. I knew the mission always came first. I glanced at my phone: 11:00 am. I had enough time to shower, pack and get to base.

The elevator doors opened and I walked out into the ground floor into the unyielding madness of everyone hollering on phones, running paperwork back and forth and being far above the point of stressed out. A few fellow soldiers halted in their tracks upon seeing me downstairs, sober and presentable by lunchtime. This was unusual for me. I glared at them and shrugged my shoulders as if to say, 'Got a problem?' and strode across the room towards Hershel's big office.

Everything slowed down, the room around me became a blur; the only focus being long black hair and an oversized jacket. She was sitting with her back to me, and I watched a delicate hand reach up to tuck her hair behind her ear. She was young. Her head turned for a moment to wave at Maggie who was standing near the door, and that's when I felt it. A sharp shock deep in my chest, for a moment I couldn't breathe. I saw her face only for a second, but it was all the time it required for the image to be burned into my memory forever because I knew then just what Daryl meant when he said to get ready for her appearance. She wasn't a crazy old hag. She was far from. She was... goddamn beautiful. Maggie must've noticed me standing there frozen stiff because she came up next to me and nudged my side playfully.

"You ready?" She asked coyly. I could barely utter a word. I was panicking. How could I survive living with her? I was such a mess, it was one thing to have to keep up normal appearances to someone you weren't attracted to, but I couldn't lie to myself and say she wasn't pretty. She was a fucking creature of beauty, and I suddenly felt completely naked. Totally stripped of power or any ability to function as normal. This was going to be horrible.

"Maggie.. I can't..."

"Yes you can." She said, stepping into my line of vision and breaking my gaze on the breathtaking girl. I couldn't be more thankful, and I took a full breath. "You'll be fine. This isn't any different from anyone else you've had to protect. You know what needs to be done." I broke my eye contact with her and glanced back at the girl in Hershel'l office, being gutted by her beauty once again. It absolutely terrified me.

"But Maggie.. I mean... look at her..." She looked around, trying to shoo away prying eyes who should have been working and turned to grab me by the shoulders.

"Rick, this is very important. You must keep it together while you're living with Michonne. I'm begging you. I know she'd pretty..."

I rolled my eyes dramaticall and gave her an exhasperated look.

"But that can't get in the way of the mission, Rick. Bliders up, soldier. We've all got our jobs to do." She was right. I had a job to do. Keep her safe. I straightened up and exhaled, becoming the controlled soldier I usually was on my good days.

I walked to Hershels office and knocked on the glass door's edge. Hershel looked up at me and I walked in and gave him a firm handshake. It was all about appearances. I watched Hershel turn to the woman and introduce me. I turned to shake her hand and my heart lurched violently. Seeing her upclose was... jaw-dropping. Beautiful dark skin, long black hair, big doe-eyes and the most perfect lips I'd ever seen. The fact that she was shy only added to her appeal; her gaze only met mine for a split second before she looked away.

I'd seen that reaction from most women I'd met, and I didn't understand what it was all about at first. I realized that I was different from my peers at the academy in more ways that just my scars and my mysterious origins. I never felt like I'd gone through that gawky, awkward stage of puberty that most boys experienced. My voice transistioned smoothly without cracks, my skin remained smooth and spot-free, and I was naturally muscular. I'd always been confident due to my exemplary physical capabilities and my sharp mind, but it wasn't until I was around 19 that I learned I was good-looking. It started as blushing glances and slowly turned into groups of whispered giggles from girls in the academy halls who would scurry past me, tucking their hair behind their ears nervously and keeping their eyes on the ground. They always thought they were out of earshot when they'd turn to each other and giggle furiously and say things like, "good god, that guy is blessed ...those eyes... he's too gorgeous to look at" blah, blah, blah.

Looks were something I never thought about. I'd spent all my time training to become more in control of myself – because in actuality, my body was just a weapon – and trying to keep my mental state intact. I was plagued with nightmares during times of stress, and the only useful outlet seemed to be eliminating targets for the military. But when I stated to notice that girls took special interest in me, like every other guy I suddenly had a new and shiny toy to focus my attention on. And when I claimed one in the girl's barracks for the first time it went pretty damn well. Until she turned on her bedside lamp, saw my scars and freaked out. That soon became the talk in the academy. It was a big headache for Hershel –seeing how he was mainly responsible for me- when my secret got out. They got a lot of flak from academy professors wondering 'Is it fair for him to be cometing in sports? Why is he like that? Surely there's emotional damage here, is he mentally stable? Clearly this is why he's been in the military since he was just a child. Is he safe to be around normal people?"

Hershel hated that term. Normal.

"Normal is an illusion." He reminded me. "Normal is bullshit. What we do for a living is normal to us, but to civillians it's chaos. We do it for the good of humanity, and no one is better at it than you. 'Normal' is a made-up term used by people as a coping mechanism. It's their pathetic way of trying to rationalize something they're unfamiliar with to comfort themselves, instead of accepting the fact that the world is ugly and terrifying and will never be the pretty place they fool themselves into thinking it'll be. People fear what they don't understand, and they're usually too self-absorbed to try and be better informed. Civilians are reactionary, controlled by their emotions. You're better than that."

I snapped back to reality at the sound of Hershel's voice informing Michonne of what having a military guard would entail. She shouldn't leave home and she had to be with me at all times. That was what made guarding people such a pain in the ass; it was boring and awkward and miserable if the person you were assigned to was a total douche bag which happened to me when I was 23. He was a spoiled rotten, rich 21 your-old asshole who never had a job, made racial slurs to the south american housekeeper because he knew she didn't speak english well, and played Call Of Duty all day because 'war is cool as fuck'. He had very important, very ignorant parents who donated millions to the military hospital and were trying to keep local drug rings away from their idiot son, and I got in a lot of trouble when I finally snapped and knocked his front teeth out.

We wrapped our meeting and Maggie reappeared in Hershel's office to walk Michonne out to the parking lot, leaving me behind to glare daggers at the General.

"I can't believe you're doing this to me."

"Stop being so melodramatic, you'll be fine if you keep your wits about you and stick to the rules." He said, raising a suspicious brow in my direction. "I saw the way you were staring at her, don't even think about it."

I'd have blushed if I weren't so appalled that Hershel could still read me like a book.

"I'm not thinking about anything! I was just surprised when I saw her, because she's so..." I couldn't finish my sentence, and I let the room's silence fill it for me. Hershel knew what I was saying.

"This wasn't my idea to send you to her," he said, letting go of the fact that I was clearly attracted to her. "I'd much rather you and Michonne not know each other right now."

I blinked at him, not expecting that for an answer. He could sense my confusion and elaborated,

"You two are very much alike. A little too much alike. She's a precious resource and... well, you're dangerous. No offense."

"None taken." I agreed with him, I was a walking weapon and shouldn't be caged with someone who was essential to the military. It was beyond strange that someone had been ordering me to watch someone so important to the government. Maggie would have been better for the job.

"Why is she so vital to us?" I asked. Hershel became quiet and his eyes darkened.

"I can't tell you. I've been ordered not to say anything to anyone who doesn't already know. She'll have to tell you herself, but good luck getting it out of her. It's a sensitive subject."

That was ridiculous. Everyone knew that the key to any soldier accomplishing a mission was to be well-prepared, and a big part of being prepared was being informed.

"How am I supposed to figure out who's threatening her if I know nothing about her?" I argued, knowing that the first rule of a soldier on guard duty was to never get close to the subject.

"Hm.. it's interesting to see you sticking to rules. Not something I'm accustomed to see from you." He said, sending me a knowing look and a sly smirk. He wanted me to break the rules. He wanted me to get close to this woman. I leaned over his desk and dropped my voice so people outside wouldn't hear.

"Are you insane? Did you forget about what happened to Judith?"

"She's not a little girl, Rick. She's not going to be begging for your attention and asking you to play with her all day. Michonne is quiet and intensly private; she keeps to herself. You'd know a thing or two about being introverted, appeal to that side of her respectfully and get the information you need to keep her safe."

* * *

The drive to her apartment was torture. It was awkward, and to make matters worse she had a shy, nervous energy about her that I found ...annoyingly magnetic.

'Snap the fuck out of it, Grimes.' I told myself as I slouched in the passenger seat and focused my attention out the windows. 'So she's pretty, get a grip. She's not the first attractive female you've encountered.'

I found my mind trying to think of all the women I had been with all over the world.. but came out blank.

I nearly slapped myself.

I suddenly noticed that traffic had moved past the light we had stopped for and we were being honked and cursed at as we remained stationary. Whipping my head around, I locked my blue eyes on her and glared.

"Are you gonna drive the car or what?"

She jumped in her seat a little, quicky surging the car to flow with traffic. I looked and away and cringed. Fuck. I felt like an asshole. Yes, I meant to scare her a little, but only because when I looked into those brown eyes of hers my heart shocked to life in a way it never had before. I couldn't get to know this woman, it was far too dangerous. She would never want me if she knew what I really was, because I was a monster, and she... ...she was perfect.


	20. Chapter 20

This story is slowly coming to an end!

There will be one last chapter after this one, but I still got some surprises for the sequel in store!

I hope you're all in for this! x

* * *

My heart pounded in my chest as I watched the number above the elevator door climb slowly. Hershel had given me the address to Rick's appartment. The soft ping of the elevator informed me of my arrival on the 7th floor and I walked up to his front door, knocking three times. The door opened and there he was. His eyes widened in surprise from seeing me.

"Michonne..."

"Are you alright? I never heard from you. I've been worried." He looked like he was fighting some internal battle and after a few seconds flew by his hand fell from the door frame and he let me step into the apartment.

I stepped into an airy great room. Polished hard-wood floors met matte taupe walls that climed 30 feet at their peak to meet white cathedral ceilings. I was transfixed by industrial shevles and tabled molded from raw woods and wrought irons accenting the buttery lushness of warm brown leather club chairs and the coarse kanvas stretched over cusions into tufts on a long, charcoal sofa. The durst of everyday living, or perhaps the lack-there-of, floated in the air suspended by the golden beams of sunlight that poured into the apartment from the skylights, and criss-crossing exposed wooden beams pained glowing geometrics on every surface. I was so absorbed by the rustic beauty of my surroundings.

"I'm fine." He tersly replied. Something was wrong with him. I turned around to face him again. Confusion and worry were conjuring inside me.

"Michonne, I appreciate you coming here, but I don't need you to check on me. I..." My eyes fixated on his nervously fidgeting hands.

"I need you to move on with your life and forget about me."

My head snapped up. His hands dropped to his side. The hardened look in his eyes held a coldness that had never excersized on me before. Dread creeped slowly into my chest and twisted its way toward my stomach like murky fog.

"How can you say that?" I asked. "Have you completely forgotten about what we went through? You said you cared about me. And now you're sending me away?"

"This is how it has to be, Michonne. You need to go back to your normal life." He reasoned. My throat continued to tighten and I couldn't keep the tears back. Reaching up I held his face in my hands and coaxed him to look at me in desperate attempt to see what he was thinking. His orbs revealed nothing to me. That wall that we had chipped away at for months before finally toppeling over had suddenly been rebuilt. My lip quivered.

"How can I go back to my normal life? You showed me that I never really had one! I was just living an existance that I thought would be fulfulling until you showed me that's all I was doing. Existing, not living." I felt him gently push me away and he shook his head in frustration.

"For your own good, just go away." His words slammed into me and my hand flew to my mouth. Fear, anger, and agoniting sadness were raging at each other in my soul.

"I don't give a damn about what's easy, and I don't care how many times some asshole threatens my life. Even during our worst times I still felt safe with you. I've never been happier that I am with you. And I know you feel the same way, Rick." He suddenly stepped to me and gripped me hard by my upper arms.

"You saw what happened!" he roared at me, fire raging in his eyes. "Seeing you fall to the floor covered in blood almost killed me! A life with me would always put you in danger! I slaughtered dozens of men in front of you! I eviscerated Negan without a second thought! It was easy! Ripping his throat out was like breaking a fucking toothpick and I did it without a drop of remorse!"

My heart was unable to bear the weight of this agony, and my voice was shaking.

"You were protecting me."

"I was getting revenge! I'm angry, and impulsive. I'm not capable of controlling myself. I'm supposed to be a perfect assassin because it's what the government built me to be! But being with you makes me forget about all the rules and all the orders! I'm a monster. Believe me, if you knew what I truly am..."

"I know about it." I said. "I know what happened to you. And I don't care about any of it. I don't care about your past, or your job. I care about you! I love you, Rick!" he froze at this, and I could see tears forming in his eyes. He began to unravel. My heart was furiously pounding in my chest and he looked down.

"Tell me you don't love me." I demanded.

"Tell me you don't love me, and I'll go."

He looked up, averting his gaze to the other side of the room. A long silence fell between us in which my heart dropped. I was about to accept the fact that he didn't want me, when finally, he let out an exhausted sigh and closed his eyes. He gave up.

"I can't." He said so quietly I almost didn't hear it.

He shook his head and tears started streaming down his face.

"I can't." He repeated while pulling me towards him. Strong arms held me desperately, one supporting my body with the other cradling my head and I felt Rick's hot breath on my neck. My arms tightened around him and he pressed his lips over my own. He pulled away and stroked my cheek, pouring out muttered 'I love you's', hoping every contact would lessen the sting of rejection.

He ran a hand through my hair and smiled at me.

"Remember when we were in the shower, and I said that you scared me? I knew what I wanted, and I knew there would be consequences, but I didn't care. I told you I was afraid of you, and afraid of what would happen afterwards. But I didn't tell you when I started being afraid."

I stared blankly, waiting for him to make his point.

"I've been freaking out inside for a long time over you. All I've ever known is the job; I've always had my orders and I've never had an issue accomplishing a tast, even if I had to break rules to make it happen. But now, for the first time in my life I've been struggling between what's allowed, what's right, what's easy, and ultimately what I want. Because they're all different things." He let out a breath.

"It's pretty selfish of me to beg for your understanding after everything that I've done to you. But I could never lie to you. You're not just a job to me. You never have been. The day I walked into Hershel's office and saw you was the day I went live, and it terrified me. I pushed away because of what I felt towards you. Knowing that it's against policy for us to be together and that you wouldn't possibly want anything to do with me if you knew what I really was. And I got angrier because you just wouldn't stop being so damn... enticing."

His words were hypnotizing me, capturing me with a passionate honestly so unlike the Rick I'd known until now.

"Rick, stop thinking about what you're supposed to do or supposed to say. You told me to take control of my life, now I'm telling you to do the same. Tell me what you really want." I put my hand over his cheek and his arms around me tightened.

"I only want you." I was ready to start crying again.

.

* * *

His bedroom was dark grey walls and plush white carpeting. Minimalist, utilitarian black furnishing kept most personal belongings hidden, and we were in a king size bed surrounded by the high thread count egyptian cotton I'd grown to miss almost as much as the man it smelled like. He had attacked me with a passionate desperation very different from the first time we'd done this dance. The first time he was fast and hard, pleasure almost punishing. A hungry wolf, taking his prey, satisfiying a long-built appetite, grinning wickedly as I gave myself over completely and he devoured me to quench his thirst and sate his starvaton. This time his passion was far more controlled, very careful not to call attention to healing wounds, basking in the relief of forgiveness and urgently coveying his adoration. I was divine goddess, slowly savored with expert precision and gratuitously worshipped; a rare treasure he has no difficulty showing his devotion to before sliding in to take his claim. The unhurried siphoning as he pumped from pools thought to be forbidden to him, divulging in the gluttenous feast he had self-disciplined to indulge in one delicious taste at a time as I slowly starved on the other end, the want growning tighter and tighter in my belly. I grabbed him and pulled him flush against me, nearly all his weight pressing me into the mattress and driving him deliciously deeper in me, where he belonged.

"Faster. Now." I gasped.

"Your wounds."

"Minor. Take me faster now."

I panted loudly as he angled himself, and obeyed goddess divine's demands.

* * *

I awoke to sunlight glowing through the blinds and stretched lazily in bed. Without reaching for my phone on the floor I knew there would be missed texts from my grandmother, asking if I'd stayed at my apartment last night. I untwisted myself from the sheets and sat up, to find the bed empty next to me. My heart dropped. He had fled again. I jumped up and pulled the sheets around myself as I tiptoed down the hall toward the great room only to be met with the sound of the tv, but no Rick. I didn't have time to be angry or hurt because a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind.

"There she is." He planted a kiss on my bare shoulder. I smiled in relief and turned to meet him. It was like seeing a new person. Heavy alertness gone the rigid tension and weighted soul of a soldier with PTSD significantly lightened. He looked... happy.

"You thought I bailed again. It was only to get breakfast; the diner on the corner makes some of the best." He handed me a styrofoam cup of coffee and sat on the couch.. He was in yesterday's sweats and wrinkled tshirt, unshowered, unshaved, with messy just-been-fucked hair and grinned at me cheekily when I settled in his lap with his bed sheet billowed around me. He handed me a blueberry muffin from a brown paper bag and reached back in for a banana nut.

"Also.. Hershel wanted to see me for a few minutes. I raised more than a few sets of eyebrows this morning when I walked through military base with breakfast for two." He said laughing. My eyes widened and I started grinning at him.

"Cat's out of the bag, I guess."

"Well," He paused, taking a swig from his coffee. "We won't be sticking around here for long. By the time we get back, I'm hoping the shock will have blown over."

I stopped chewing.

"Back from where?" I gulped. He grinned again and said,

"That's your call. I've never taken a vacation in my life, and you've never left Atlanta. I think we deserve some time to relax, and making you happy makes me happy in return. He leaned close and stroked my cheek with his thumb.

"Now, where can I take you?"

* * *

That was the 20th chapter! Epilogue will probably be up tomorrow!

Thank you for reading!


	21. Chapter 21 - Epilogue

I'm finally back with the last chapter!

Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

"I really eat way too much every time I come here." He said, and I giggled as he motioned at me for another bite. The restaurant was small –tiny actually, with only 15 tables crammed in together and nestled between little book shops and cafes on a quiet, cobblestoned street in a quaint town of narrow alleys and crooked old buildings. Not far from the rolling hills and fields where red poppies bloomed in the spring, and just on the edge of Florence, it was easy to see why Tuscany was so satisfying. We were smushed comfortably in the far back corner, opting to sit next to each other as we sampled off each other's plates and indulged in flights of wine. The old brick walls seemed to dance in the flickering light of the votives on each table, the space so tiny that not much further illumination was required.

I was full of pasta and fuzzy from wine, soft and comfortable curled up next to him in the corner and laughing at his comment as he slung his arm over my shoulders. I swirled some penne through the creamy vodka sauce and fed it to him.

It had been an incredible trip, and we were reaching our vacation's finish line with three days to go. We'd already spent two days in Tuscany indulging of the 7th districts and getting lost in the splendor of the museums, and a week in England; where we tucked ourselves away in the cozy pubs of old London and took long drives through the countryside in Surrey before continuing on throught Kent, Basildon Park and Stevenson. It was incredible, and satisfyed some of the wanderlust I'd been plagued with for so long. The best moment by far had been our very first night in England.

We had rendet an SUV and before leaving the lot Rick had blindfolded me in the front seat, saying that it was a surprise. I of course replied that I'd never been outside Atlanta so it was all a surprise and there wasn't much need for a blind fold, to which he responded,

"I don't want you to see the sky. Just trust me." I had no clue what he meant but I trusted him so we chatted animatedly as he drove us to our destination. Nearly an hour later he stopped and powered down the engine, signaling our arrival. As he opened my door and helped me out I couldn't help giggling in anticipation of whatever it was he was planning. It was extremely cold, with fresh snow under my boots and it was eerily quiet. All I could hear was the sound of our breathing and our footsteps in the snow.

Finally, we stopped.

"Ready?" He asked, holding my gloved hands in his. I nodded, and I felt him work at the knot and the fabric fell from my eyes. I was met first with his lovely gaze, then looking around me I found us standing alone in a snow covered field several yards from the SUV, which was parked in front of the most charming, brick English cottage. Incandescent light glowed from the windows, and smoke puffed from the chimney. It looked warm and inviting and like it would be the perfect place to curl up with tea and a book. I was elated, and launched myself at Rick, hugging him fiercely.

"It's perfect. I love it." I breathed into his chest. He pulled back from me and smiled.

"That's not the surprise." He said, and motioned skyward. My gaze followed his own and I was left speechless. The black sky was smattered with glittering stars. Peppered heavily across the land; twinkling specks of light bright enough to rival the glowing white moon they danced around. I'd seen these kinds of skies in films, they never seemed like they could be real. An entire galaxy of speckled light that we were a part of: so far away and yet right there. Living in such a large city had unique benefits that set it apart from living anywhere else, but at the cost of some things that everyone else considers a normal part of life. A yard to run around in, a driveway for your car, and stars.

I caught Rick gazing at me the way every girl wishes a guy would look at her, and his arm came around to pull me close.

"When you told me you'd never left Atlanta, I knew that meant you'd never seen stars." He said, following my gaze back to the sky. "There are certain things in life that everyone should see. Snow, the ocean, and stars like these. You have to go to dimly lit parts of the word to see them, but they're worth the effort. When we get back to the states, we'll go to Maine. Maine has stars like these."

Between the chilly winter wonderland around us, the picturesque story book cottage we'd be staying in and the glittering midnight sky, I found my heart soaring with excitement and exhuberant joy, and just before I could start welling up, he grinned and kissed me.

* * *

Paris was every bit romantic as you would hope it to be. I had been surprised yet again when Rick ushered me into a beautiful hotel and the bellhops had delivered our luggage to the room and left by the time we opened the door to the suite, and my state of awestruck enchanment only continued. Where the English cottage was cozy and quaint with it's warm flannel blankets, shabby chic furniture, rustic fireplace and old world charm, the suite in Paris was opulent; with expensive silks and hand-carved barroque furnishing, crystal chandeliers and uniformed hotel staff with crisp white gloves carrying silver trays from room to room. In England he had payed top dollar for quiet, romantic countryside just outside London. Here his hard-earned money was buying King size goose feather beds with bottles of Cristal on the nightstand and a wrought iron balcony that looked out over the city and served as a perfect perch to gaze at the Eifel Tower. We were both so damn happy that we broke open the Cristal, got hammered, had wild sex and spent the entire next day in bed with horrible hangovers. After sampling the incredble art and even more incredible food, we would drag ourselves back to the hotel, slightly drunk on chocolate-dipped croissants, rum-soaked petite madelines, and raspberries dranched in chamapgne. He would close the door, push me up against it, and kiss me deep and slow so I could revisit the tastes of sugars and liquors off his tongue.

* * *

I was roused from deep, drunken slumber by the bed shaking slightly. I turned over to find Rick tossing and turning, clenching the sheets and squeezing his eyes shut as beads of sweat rolled down his brow. I sat up and moved to comfort him, soothing my hand across his cheek, calming him almost instantly. His eyes blinked open and his hand went to cover mine.

"What happened?" He croaked, panting as he tried to pull himself calmly into the waking world. His clouded, tired gaze met mine and his eyes widened. "Did I-"

"-No. Nothing happened, I'm fine." I interjected. He had told be before that nightmares could cause him to lose control and have violent outbursts, and that I could get hurt. He didn't want me to risk that, and said I should just ignore it. But I didn't care about any of it.

"Are you okay?" He said nothing as he sat up slowly, wiping the sweat from his brow. I scooted closer to him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

He exhaled, and he raked his fingers through my hair.

"It's always the same dream," He said, focusing his attention on the twisted sheets. "I wake up to a blinding light above me and three dark figures come into view. It's the surgeons, and they're confused. Looking at me, then at each other, back and forth. They don't speak, and their confusion quickly shifts into panic when they realize their mistake. The worst part is how alone I feel. No clue who I am or how I got there, what they wanted, with no one to help me. They implanted me with a defense trigger. I had no choice but to save myself at all costs. I can still hear the screams."

I sat in silence listening, whishing I could offer any form of comforting advice. He took my hand in his and looked at me.

"It's gotten better though. I used to have that nightmare every night. But when I came to live with you, those numbers shrank. In the months we lived at your place I got some of the best sleep of my life. I only had that nightmare two or three times." This offered me a shred of hope. We laid back down and I let my body melt into his.

"I don't mean to make light out of the situation," I started softly. "But if it helps, maybe this all happened for a reason. What if there's some big, cosmic reason that we should be in each other's lives? Maybe this was the only way we would've met." The feel of his fingers gently running through my hair and softly stroking my scalp sent waves of warmth curling through me, and just as my mind was slipping under, he murmured softly,

"That's a good way to think of it." He kissed my head and sleep claimed me.

* * *

 _One Year Later_

* * *

"'Chonne, babe, let's go." He called from the living room.

"Two seconds I swear!" I slipped on my heels.

"You said that ten minutes ago. We're gonna be late." I straightened my white chiffon dress – the one I wore to the the charity gala – and stumbled out the bedroom, practically skidding to a stop in front of him. He was texting as he stood near the front door, looking sleek in that all black suit I loved, and his eyes slid from his phone to my feet and slowly climbed my body before meeting mine. He grinned wickedly.

"I've been wondering where that dress went."

"Of course you did." I laughed. "Are you gonna make fun of me again? The last time I wore this you said it was smaller than it's how-to-wash tag." I teased.

He laughed, which was such a beautiful sound and took my hand as he pecked my cheek.

"Yeah well, guys make fun of girls when they like them." He said with a gleeful mirth in his eyes. I smiled as he pulled me out the front door and we began our dissent to the parking garage.

"Besides," he added coolly. "I never said I didn't like it. I love that dress. I love seeing you in that dress."

We got in the Aston Martin and he looked at me as he rolled the engine over and the car purred to life.

"I love the thought of peeling that dress off you."

We pulled to a stop outside the restaurant as I unlocked my seat belt and reached for the door. We were meeting to dinner with all of our friends from the army. But it felt more like a family dinner to us. It was nice to see Hershel again. After everything was over and the higher ranking officers that were connected to Negan had been exposed Hershel had been promoted and was kept very busy. Rick and I had been travelling for a few months until Rick had gotten new orders to go on Tour of Duty. Things have been hard during that time, even for me, but we were glad to finally reunite with everyone again.

"Good to see you, Rick." He said as they hugged. He turned to embrace me and pecked my cheek.

"Michonne, dear, how are you?" I smiled and replied that I was well and that Rick and I had missed him before turning my attention to the others.

"Michonne! Rick!" Maggie squealed with mist in her eyes. She gave me an energetic embrace. "I'm so glad you guys made it! It feels like we haven't seen each other in forever. How have you been?"

The anxiety I was feeling only intensified every time Rick and I locked eyes. He still managed to give me a reassuring smile. We had some news to tell everyone.

* * *

Rick sighed contently after coming down. After a moment he collected himself and I crawled up to lay down next to him.

"You're welcome." I said with a shit-eating grin. He burst out laughing and I playfully pushed him, which gave him perfect opportunity to grab my wrist and pull me across him as he rolled and pinned me to the mattress. He laughed and gazed at me, his eyes shining in the dark.

"I think you meant to say '"Thank you, Rick.'"

"Oh get over yourself." I said, and whacked him with a pillow. He sat there stunned, his face shifted from stupefied to the sly, cunning animal ready to pounce. Excitement surged in me and I knew what was coming.

"Oh, you're messing with the wrong guy, Michy." And that was the start of our pillow fight turned wrestling match turned sweet and passionate kissing; the deep toe-curling kind.

"I love seeing you like this." I said to him as he hovered over me, his face close to mine. "You seem happy."

"I am. I'm better than happy. I'm at peace, and it's all because of you. My life changed completely after I met you." I considered his words for a moment before adding,

"Well, none of this would have happened if I didn't have this condition."

He smiled at me.

"I'm glad you've openend up about that." He said, moving a few strands of hair from my eyes. I shrugged.

"I'm not afraid of it anymore. You taught me that. I felt powerless for so many years until I met you, and now I know I can live whatever life I want because I've always been the one in control. When the world finds out about me, I won't be afraid. Especially because I've got you." A calm serenity washed over his features.

"You have no idea how much power you have. I'm completely useless against you." He laughed. "When I saw you in Hershel's office that first day, I was done for. I was ready to end it all. I was so fucked up, and I saw you and that was it. It was like ... suddenly feeling a heartbeat when you'd only ever known yourself to be dead. It scared the shit out of me. I never thought I could have a life like this. I was so damn sure that I'd never be in love. I've never even had a family. But now ..." He paused, and I felt his hand stroke my lower belly. His gaze fell down towards it, and I saw him smile.

"You're my everything."

He said and embraced me, burying his face in the crook of my neck, and I started welling up. My arms wrapped around him and my fingers laced into his hair.

"I love you, Rick." I felt him grin and he pulled back and kissed me.

I knew that life would never be the same for either of us, it would never be what we'd always known because since meeting each other everthing had changed. We faced fears, embraced faults, I learned to take control while he learned to let go of some. He saw through my insecurities to the woman who wanted to embrace life, and I saw past his terrifying demons to help him realize that life was worth living and that if he had to suffer, he would never suffer alone. We were two lonely, broken people slowly healing because we knew that we would never have to feel alone again.

He was my cure.

* * *

That's the end of this story everyone! Thank you so much for sticking with this story till the end and thank you to everyone who left reviews! I never expected so much wonderful feedback! I'm currently still working on the sequel, and it might take me a while to sort everything out that I have planned. I'll start posting chapters after I have a couple of them finished, so you guys don't have to wait too long between chapters. Also, when you head over to my profile you can find the link to my tumblr.

Let me know what you thought of this last chapter, and also let me know if there's anything you hope to see in the sequel.

Thank you for your attention and kind words,

Till next time! x


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